1e  Son  of  the  Prefect 


Edmund  H.Seara 


GIFT  OF 


THE  SON  OF  THE 
PREFECT 

A   STORY  OF  THE  REIGN 
OF  TIBERIUS 


BY 


EDMUND    HAMILTON    SEARS 


BOSTON:  RICHARD  G.  BADGER 

THE  COPP  CLARK:  co.,  LIMITED,  TORONTO 


Copyright,  1914,  by  Richard  G.  Badger 
All  Rights  Reserved 


7^ 

y% 

C^-j  -' 


THE  GORHAM  PRESS,  BOSTON,  U.  S.  A. 


TO    THE    MEMORY 
OF 

MY    BROTHER   FRANCIS 

WITH   WHOM    I   FIRST  SHARED   THE  LOVE  OF 
ROMAN    THINGS 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 


THE  SON   OF  THE 
PREFECT 


THE  great  dining  hall  in  the  mansion  of  Cor 
nelius  Veltrius  was  ablaze  with  light.  A 
hundred  could  dine  in  it  with  comfort,  yet  it 
gave  the  impression  of  sumptuousness  even  more  than 
of  space  as  its  costly  furnishings  reflected  the  glow  of 
its  innumerable  lamps.  And  costly  indeed  they  were. 
The  rugs  were  thick  and  their  coloring  was  rich;  the 
triclinium  and  the  chairs  were  of  woods  handsomely 
inlaid  and  of  bronze  elaborately  designed;  bronze  and 
marble  statues  stood  like  a  serried  rank  of  soldiers  all 
around  the  walls;  and  the  wall  spaces  and  the  ceiling 
were  covered  with  a  series  of  paintings  artistically  con 
ceived  and  harmonious  in  tone. 

Yet  the  effect  was  garish  rather  than  beautiful.  To 
a  severe  taste  it  would  have  been  displeasing.  The 
Romans  of  Tiberius'  day  loved  splendor  and  barbaric 
magnificence.  Their  wealth  was  like  a  sea.  They 
dipped  it  up  and  dispensed  it  with  lavish  hand.  And 
of  these  money-getters  and  money-spenders  Veltrius 
was  one  of  the  most  prodigal.  His  gains  were  enor 
mous.  He  had  plundered  provincials;  he  had  bar 
gained  shrewdly;  his  vessels  brought  him  rich  returns 
from  every  Mediterranean  shore.  And  he  amassed 

7 


8      |j:  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

but  to  spend.  He  gave  princely  banquets;  he  fed  a 
host  of  poor  retainers;  he  filled  his  house  with  the 
costliest  art  treasures  the  world  could  show. 

No  wonder  then  that  his  great  dining  hall  was  splen 
didly  furnished  and  adorned.  No  wonder  that  its  ar 
ray  of  objects  was  bewildering  to  the  eye.  Yet 
beautiful,  rarely  beautiful,  were  many  of  these  costly 
possessions.  There  were  bronze  castings  on  the  chairs 
and  the  triclinium  that  only  a  true  artist  could  have 
designed;  there  were  statues  and  busts  of  the  most 
perfect  Grecian  workmanship.  And  the  paintings 
showed  that  fine  sense  of  form  and  color  which  is  to 
be  seen  in  the  wall  paintings  at  Pompeii  and  in  the 
House  of  Livia  on  the  Palatine.  They  all  had  a  com 
mon  theme.  They  traced  out  the  wanderings  of 
Ulysses,  and  showed  with  the  same  admirable  touch 
the  grotesque  and  gigantic  Cyclops  and  the  hound  ex 
piring  at  the  sight  of  his  old  master. 

And  in  keeping  with  this  parade  of  artistic  treas 
ures  were  the  preparations  for  the  approaching  feast. 
The  triclinium,  which  was  arranged  for  the  customary 
eight  guests  and  the  host,  was  invitingly  strewn  with 
richly  colored  cushions  and  coverlets.  Altogether 
fresh  and  attractive  they  looked.  Had  they  just  come 
from  the  fuller  or  had  they  been  newly  purchased  for 
the  occasion?  But  the  eye  of  the  epicure  would  not 
have  lingered  on  them  for  all  their  alluring  appear 
ance.  It  would  have  glanced  on  to  the  table  in  the 
center  which  was  even  thus  early  burdened  with  costly 
and  delicious  viands.  Most  conspicuous  was  a  huge 
silver  bowl  of  wine,  iced  and  sufficiently  diluted  to  pre- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  9 

vent  too  early  intoxication.  Flanking  it  were  the  deli 
cacies  which  Rome,  mistress  of  the  world,  gathered 
daily  from  all  parts  of  her  dominions.  Almost  every 
thing  that  the  earth,  the  air  and  the  sea  could  offer  was 
there  —  fish,  flesh  and  fowl  and  the  most  luscious 
fruits  that  grew  in  sunny  climes  or  in  the  colder  north 
ern  lands.  The  palms  of  Africa  and  the  orchards  of 
Asia  Minor  had  contributed  dates  and  juicier  products 
of  the  tree;  from  Lake  Copais  in  Boeotia  had  come 
the  eels  which  the  epicure  pronounced  better  than  any 
others;  fish  that  had  swum  in  Grecian  waters,  pheas 
ants  that  had  been  snared  by  Dacian  hunters,  and  boars 
that  had  roamed  the  Apennines  helped  to  make  the 
table  attractive  and  luxurious;  and  rich  old  wines  from 
the  choicest  vineyards  in  Italy  awaited  the  connoisseur 
—  and  what  well  born  Roman  was  not  a  connoisseur 
in  those  days  of  riotous  living? 

Such  abounding  good  cheer  was  not  infrequent  in  the 
dining  hall  of  Veltrius;  yet  the  present  occasion  was  an 
unusual  one.  It  was  at  the  command  of  his  son  Milo 
that  these  lavish  preparations  had  been  made.  For 
Veltrius  was  unstintedly  generous  to  his  two  children. 
If  he  gave  costly  banquets  himself  he  allowed  Milo  to 
outdo  them;  and  on  his  daughter  Julia  he  showered 
jewels  and  costly  apparel  and  all  the  articles  of  finery 
that  are  dear  to  the  heart  of  a  young  and  beautiful 
woman.  But  though  Milo  had  often  entertained  his 
friends  in  royal  fashion,  he  had  never  given  so  sumptu 
ous  a  feast  as  this.  It  was  to  be  in  honor  of  his  friend 
and  boon  companion  Marcus  Agrippa,  son  of  the  City 
Prefect,  and  this  day  reaching  the  dignity,  if  not  neces- 


io  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

sarily  the  wisdom  and  the  discretion,  which  a  man  is 
expected  to  attain  on  beginning  his  twenty-first  year. 
Three  years  earlier,  when  Marcus  had  put  on  the  toga 
virilis,  Milo,  his  elder  by  two  years,  had  feasted  him 
quite  bountifully;  but  this  banquet  was  to  put  to  shame 
all  that  had  ever  been  given  in  that  luxurious  hall.  It 
was  not  merely  that  the  wines  and  viands  were  of  the 
rarest  and  the  costliest;  the  appeal  to  the  eye  was  also 
to  afford  an  altogether  full  and  unusual  gratification. 
Rome  had  been  ransacked  to  provide  the  most  skillful 
artists  in  every  species  of  diversion  which  can  give  en 
joyment  to  a  company  of  young  men  growing  riotous 
over  their  cups. 

The  banquet  was  to  begin  at  sundown.  A  half  hour 
previous,  Milo  repaired  to  the  dining  hall  to  be  ready 
to  meet  any  early-arriving  guests.  Good-humored, 
genial,  and  mentally  well  endowed,  he  was  a  youth 
whom  Socrates  would  have  delighted  to  confound  by 
remorseless  questioning  and  to  force  into  steady,  seri 
ous  activity.  For  he  had  drifted  into  the  indolent  ways 
of  that  pleasure-loving  period  as  naturally  as  an  un- 
guided  skiff  follows  the  current  of  a  rushing  stream. 
Tall,  finely  featured,  with  black  hair  and  the  aquiline 
Roman  nose,  he  carried  himself  with  true  manly  dig 
nity;  and  in  the  days  when  Rome  was  contending  for 
her  very  life  against  the  mighty  Hannibal  he  would 
have  shown  himself  fully  a  man.  It  was  his  misfor 
tune  to  grow  up  in  a  time  wrhen  duty  gave  no  clarion 
calls  and  under  a  roof  where  from  childhood  his  every 
wish  had  been  gratified. 

Not  greatly  resembling  him  either  in  person  or  in 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  n 

character  was  the  guest  who  first  arrived.  Lentulus 
was  ushered  in  by  a  swarthy  Egyptian,  who  like  the 
other  servants  of  the  house  was  clothed  in  spotless 
white  linen,  and  was  warmly  greeted  by  his  host.  He 
was  shown  his  appointed  place  on  the  triclinium,  and 
the  slaves  whose  task  it  was  brought  him  water  in  a 
silver  basin  and  a  napkin.  Such  ablutions  as  the  warm 
July  evening  prompted  having  been  performed, 
Lentulus,  who  was  nothing  of  a  sybarite,  left  his  com 
fortable  cushions  and  joined  his  host  in  conversation. 
Walking  slowly  up  and  down  the  hall  together,  the 
two  formed  an  interesting  contrast.  Lentulus  was  a 
head  shorter  than  his  host  and  slightly  corpulent.  His 
hair  was  red,  his  features  were  plain  and  of  the  So- 
crat'ic  cast.  His  carriage  betrayed  the  thinker,  for  he 
walked  with  a  slight  stoop  and  kept  his  eyes,  which 
were  honest  and  kindly,  fixed  upon  the  ground.  He 
was  indeed  a  Stoic  and  was  thoroughly  true  to  his 
creed.  Books  of  philosophy  were  his  main  delight  and 
moral  questions  always  interested  him  profoundly. 
Characteristically  he  stopped  in  his  leisurely  pacing 
before  a  painting  that  showed  Circe  turning  the  com 
rades  of  Ulysses  into  swine  and  said  to  his  companion 
that  the  picture  illustrated  the  truth  of  Horace's  com 
ment  upon  Homer,  namely  that  his  poetry  proved  him 
a  better  teacher  than  philosophers  like  Chrysippus 
and  Crantor. 

Before  Milo  could  reply  three  more  guests  were 
ushered  in  and  heartily  welcomed.  The  welcome  was 
none  the  less  cordial  because  the  newcomers  were  of 
the  convivial  sort  and  could  contribute  little  to  the  in- 


12  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

tellectual  side  of  a  symposium.  Bibulus,  who  headed 
the  three,  was  a  heavy  drinker;  Curio,  who  followed 
next,  was  one  of  the  most  noted  epicures  in  Rome ;  the 
third,  Caius,  hot-brained  and  lacking  in  moral  sturdi- 
ness,  was  yet  much  liked  by  Milo's  circle  for  his  warm 
heartedness  and  his  staunch  loyalty  to  his  friends.  All 
three  took  their  places  on  the  triclinium  and  there  re 
mained,  the  table  with  its  load  of  dainties  being  a  more 
attractive  sight  than  the  objects  of  art  which  were 
ranged  about  the  hall. 

It  was  quite  otherwise  with  Cethegus  who  was  the 
next  to  arrive.  He  was  a  man  of  thirty,  tall  and 
slender,  with  a  keen  eye  and  sharp  features  that  de 
noted  an  active  and  discerning  mind.  Cynical  and 
opinionated,  he  was  not  without  kindly  feeling  and  a 
high  sense  of  honor;  and  his  wit  was  so  clever  and 
searching  that  he  was  much  sought  by  the  gay  and 
lively  circles  of  Roman  society.  Joining  Milo  and 
Lentulus,  he  talked  with  them  a  few  moments  and  then 
turned  his  attention  to  the  statues,  his  interest  in  sculp 
ture  being  as  pronounced  as  was  that  of  most  cultivated 
Romans  of  his  time  and  his  eye  thoroughly  trained. 

"  Milo/'  he  said  as  he  stopped  before  a  marble  and 
surveyed  it  critically,  "  I  am  more  than  ever  convinced 
that  that  Apollo  was  the  handiwork  of  Scopas.  The 
dealer  that  sold  it  to  you  may  have  been  honest  when 
he  told  you  it  was  by  Praxiteles.  The  works  of  the 
two  are  easily  confounded,  their  styles  are  so  much 
alike.  But  in  the  modeling  of  the  brow  and  the  fea 
tures  I  see  just  a  suggestion  of  the  earlier  severity 
which  Praxiteles  would  have  toned  away." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  13 

"  You  may  be  right,"  answered  Milo  good-na 
turedly.  "  But  as  neither  Scopas  nor  Praxiteles  can 
be  called  on  to  testify,  I  am  afraid  the  question  will 
never  be  decided." 

Just  here  two  more  guests  were  ushered  in  and  Mar 
cus  alone  was  now  wanting  to  make  the  company  com 
plete.  But  Marcus  was  the  guest  of  honor,  and  the 
feast  could  not  well  begin  without  him.  Yet  delay  was 
not  agreeable  to  Curio  and  others  who  had  brought  a 
well  fostered  appetite  to  what  they  knew  would  prove 
a  surpassingly  rich  and  sumptuous  entertainment. 
They  demanded  that  the  banquet  begin  at  once. 

"  Why  wait  for  him?  "  asked  Bibulus,  to  whom  the 
cool  depths  of  the  silver  bowl  were  overpoweringly  at 
tractive.  "  He  has  no  right  to  make  us  suffer  because 
he  is  twenty-one  to-day." 

"  It  is  just  like  him  to  be  late,"  cried  Caius.  "  He 
is  such  a  wild  fellow  you  can  never  count  on  him.  Like 
as  not  he  has  got  himself  into  a  scrape  on  his  way  here 
and  will  not  appear  till  everything  is  spoiled." 

"  That  sounds  well  from  you,"  said  Lentulus. 
"  You  are  always  so  cool  and  steady!  " 

"  If  my  memory  does  not  fail  me,  he  served  you  in 
the  same  way,  Milo,  just  three  years  ago  to-night  when 
you  gave  a  dinner  in  his  honor,"  remarked  a  pale, 
slender  youth,  Bibrax  by  name,  who  was  sure  to  con 
tribute  some  reminiscences  to  an  occasion  of  this  kind. 

"  Oh,  your  memory  doesn't  fail  you,"  drily  observed 
Cethegus.  "  It  never  does.  All  the  more  unfortunate 
we !  " 

The  laughter  caused  by  this  sally  did  not  still  the 


i4  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

clamor  of  the  more  insistent  banqueters  who  demanded 
that  at  any  rate  all  should  take  their  places  on  the  tri 
clinium  in  order  that  the  feast  might  be  under  way  the 
very  moment  the  belated  guest  appeared.  To  this 
Milo  assented.  He  and  Lentulus  and  Cethegus  took 
the  places  that  belonged  to  them;  and  hardly  had  they 
done  so  when  there  were  heard  in  the  corridor  adjoin 
ing  the  sound  of  hurrying  feet  and  exclamations  of  im 
patience.  Then  the  heavy  hanging  that  shut  off  the 
passageway  was  thrust  aside  in  unceremonious  fashion, 
and  Marcus  came  striding  into  the  hall,  followed 
closely  by  the  crest-fallen  Egyptian  whose  crumpled 
linen  showed  that  his  well  meant  endeavor  to  announce 
and  escort  this  lively  guest  had  brought  him  a  rough 
handling. 

Indeed,  a  slight  push  or  buffet  from  the  young  giant 
who  was  now  entering  would  have  been  quite  enough 
to  cause  the  discomfiture  of  any  ordinary  man.  Mar 
cus  was  a  model  of  manly  strength  and  activity.  His 
frame  was  massive,  his  shoulders  broad,  and  his  limbs 
large  and  splendidly  developed;  but  his  unusual  height 
and  his  perfect  proportions  gave  to  his  whole  figure  an 
aspect  of  elegance,  and  unless  he  stood  with  other  men 
his  vast  stature  was  not  easily  realized.  Yet  his 
strength  was  prodigious  and  the  mightiest  athletes  who 
frequented  the  gymnasiums  l  of  Rome  could  not  vie 
with  him  in  feats  of  power  and  endurance.  From  his 

1  By  the  gymnasium  is  really  meant  the  bath.  The  Romans  did 
not  have  separate  gymnasiums  like  the  Greeks;  nor  did  they  cultivate 
the  varied  and  graceful  forms  of  bodily  activity  of  which  the  Greeks 
were  fond.  Exercise  was  to  them  a  means  of  acquiring  strength  and 
endurance,  and  they  took  it  in,  connection  with  the  bath. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  15 

boyhood  he  had  been  passionately  fond  of  exercise, 
and  the  work  of  the  gymnasium  was  to  him  nothing 
but  a  recreation  and  a  pleasure.  He  handled  every 
weapon  with  a  skill  that  equaled  that  of  the  seasoned 
gladiator;  and  possessing  untiring  strength  as  well  as 
skill,  he  had  more  than  once  defeated  hardy  veterans 
in  bloodless  contests  with  the  pike  and  sword.  Hardly 
an  athlete  in  Rome  was  willing  to  don  the  caestus  and 
face  him,  so  incessant  and  terrific  were  his  blows.  Yet 
his  finely  chiseled  features  and  his  intellectual  forehead 
showed  that  he  was  no  mere  healthy  animal  rejoicing 
chiefly  in  the  possession  of  uncommon  strength.  Nor 
was  it  that  physical  prowess  that  men  are  so  prone  to 
overvalue  that  made  him  a  prime  favorite  with  his 
companions.  He  was  quick  to  read  and  understand 
others,  witty  and  ready  at  repartee;  and  he  was  also 
kindly,  prompt  to  show  sympathy,  and  usually  genial 
and  good-natured.  Yet  all  his  associates  knew  that 
his  wrath  was  fierce  when  it  was  once  aroused.  His 
features  were  Grecian  rather  than  Roman,  for  his 
mother's  family  came  of  Greek  stock  in  Southern  Italy. 
His  eyes  were  hazel  and  unusually  far-sighted;  and  his 
hair  which  was  long  and  curly  was  of  a  light  chestnut 
brown. 

With  this  abounding  vitality  Marcus  was  apt  to  cre 
ate  a  breeze  wherever  he  went.  Hence,  Milo  and  his 
guests  were  more  amused  than  surprised  to  see  him 
stride  into  the  room  ahead  of  the  Egyptian  and  an 
nounce  himself  by  crying  out  as  he  entered, 

u  I've  sinned  again,  Milo.  I've  sinned  again.  It's 
a  crying  shame  I'm  so  late,  but  I've  had  a  strange  ad- 


1 6  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 


venture." 


But  all  were  quite  taken  aback  when  they  saw  their 
unceremonious  comrade  throw  himself  down  in  his  ap 
pointed  place  by  the  side  of  his  host,  motion  a  slave 
for  a  beaker  of  wine,  drain  it  instantly  and  then  lie 
flat  on  his  back  and  gaze  motionless  up  at  the  ceiling. 
Milo  himself  would  have  humored  his  friend,  not  mind 
ing  his  disregard  of  conventional  ways.  But  not  so 
the  rest.  Whatever  the  reveries  of  Marcus  were,  he 
was  not  allowed  to  continue  them  undisturbed.  His 
ears  were  at  once  assailed  by  a  chorus  of  cries  which 
were  designed  to  arouse  him  from  his  unseasonable  fit 
of  abstraction. 

"  Who  was  she,  Marcus?  " 

"Tell  us  her  name!" 

"Where  did  you  find  her?" 

"Did  you  follow  her  far?" 

'  Were  there  any  broken  heads?  " 

"  Was  she  fair  or  dark?  " 

"  How  many  kisses  did  she  give  you?  " 

Marcus  had  listened  unmoved  to  the  first  few  ban 
tering  remarks,  but  the  last  one  brought  him  to  his  feet 
as  if  he  had  been  hit  by  an  arrow.  Jumping  from  his 
couch,  he  glared  about  him  savagely  and  cried  out  in 
wrath, 

4  Who  talks  of  kissing?  Don't  give  low  tastes  to 
others  because  you  have  them  yourselves!  Does  a 
man  never  look  at  a  maid  without  wishing  to  taste  her 
lips?" 

But  this  protestation  only  made  its  author  the  mark 
for  new  jibes  and  fresh  bantering.  Few  of  the  ban- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  17 

queters  had  any  deep  respect  for  woman,  and  a  man 
who  has  ceased  to  honor  womanly  purity  and  virtue  is 
slow  to  believe  that  others  reverence  what  he  has  lost 
faith  in.  So  instead  of  silencing  his  noisy  questioners, 
Marcus  only  aroused  them  to  fresh  activity. 

"  It  was  a  she!  "  "  It  was  a  she!  "  cried  several 
triumphantly,  while  others  insisted  more  clamorously 
than  ever  on  knowing  who  the  damsel  was.  And  some 
there  were  who  ridiculed  Marcus  for  the  virtuous  tone 
he  had  assumed  which  they  regarded  as  out  of  keeping 
with  his  usual  standards  of  conduct. 

"  Since  when  have  you  been  so  scrupulous?"  cried 
one. 

"  You  didn't  kiss  one  of  the  maids  in  Delphium's 
wine  room  the  other  day.  Oh,  no!  "  said  another. 

"  And  you  never  flirted  with  Scipio's  pretty  slave, 
Canidia,"  remarked  Bibrax;  while  Curio,  the  epicure, 
who  spoke  seldom  and  then  in  a  high-keyed  drawling 
voice,  made  the  embarrassing  inquiry, 

"  Have  you  seen  Charmion,  the  flower  girl,  lately? 
I  tried  to  get  a  kiss  from  her  a  few  days  ago,  but  she 
said  that  since  you  had  kissed  her  she  had  no  favors 
to  give  to  a  homely  fellow  like  me." 

Great  was  the  merriment  over  this  last  thrust,  and 
Marcus,  thoroughly  out  of  sorts,  threw  himself  down 
on  his  couch  again  and  lay  with  his  head  supported  on 
one  hand,  sullen  and  dumb  and  utterly  averse  to  eat 
ing  and  drinking  or  to  taking  any  part  in  the  gayeties  of 
the  evening.  Ordinarily  such  taunts  as  he  had  re 
ceived  would  have  made  him  throw  back  at  his  compan 
ions  the  similar  improprieties  of  which  they  were  all, 


1 8  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

with  the  exception  of  Lentulus  and  Cethegus,  only  too 
often  guilty.  But  he  had  had  an  experience  that 
touched  him  deeply  and  roused  feelings  that  were  of 
fended  by  the  levity  of  his  comrades.  So  he  lay  in  a 
mood  of  dejection  that  promised  ill  for  the  evening's 
entertainment  and  stirred  those  who  were  most  inti 
mate  with  him  to  interfere  in  his  behalf.  It  was 
Lentulus  who  called  out  in  a  sharp  authoritative  voice 
that  silenced  them  all, 

"  Come,  come !  This  has  gone  far  enough,  fellows. 
Remember,  Marcus  is  the  guest  of  honor  this  evening." 

And  Milo  added,  "  You  are  here  to  eat  and  drink, 
good  friends.  Prove  to  me  now  that  your  appetites 
are  as  keen  as  your  wit,  and  that  you  are  no  more 
afraid  of  stout  old  Falernian  than  a  Roman  veteran  is 
afraid  of  a  raw  barbarian.  Here's  to  Marcus, 
friends !  All  of  you  drain  a  cup  to  the  bottom  in  honor 
of  Marcus !  You  may  say  what  you  like  about  him, 
but  he's  the  best  man  among  us  to-night." 

The  toast  was  drunk  with  such  hearty  good  will  that 
Marcus'  resentment  was  softened.  While  the  feast 
ing  went  on  he  ate  and  drank,  though  sparingly;  and 
when  he  was  addressed  he  answered  readily  and  pleas 
antly.  But  he  volunteered  only  brief  and  infrequent 
remarks  and  was  strangely  quiet  and  repressed  for  a 
man  of  his  merry  wit  and  abounding  vitality. 

The  feast  was  a  protracted  one,  for  the  table  as  the 
guests  first  beheld  it  contained  only  a  portion  of  the 
delicacies  that  had  been  provided  for  the  occasion  by 
the  skillful  cooks  of  Veltrius'  spacious  and  well  ap 
pointed  kitchen.  The  immaculately  clad  servants 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  19 

brought  on  pasty  after  pasty,  each  filled  with  some  rare 
game,  spiced  and  seasoned  to  perfection;  and  these 
were  succeeded  by  a  variety  of  confections  and  jellies, 
cast  in  artistic  molds  specially  designed  for  this  ban 
quet  and  composed  of  the  costliest  syrups  and  the  dain 
tiest  sweets  that  the  markets  of  Rome  could  furnish. 

Even  for  a  midsummer  evening  in  Rome  it  was 
warm.  Hence,  as  the  banquet  progressed  and  the 
slaves  ran  to  and  fro  on  their  never-ceasing  rounds, 
their  white  linen  tunics,  smooth  and  spotless  in  the  be 
ginning,  became  badly  soiled  and  discomposed.  But 
the  guests  dined  in  comfort  notwithstanding  the  heat; 
for  Nubian  slaves  waved  huge  fans  over  them  and  thus 
kept  them  in  a  never-failing  and  refreshing  breeze. 

But  a  man  who  is  sated  can  not  be  tempted  even  with 
dishes  that  would  command  an  epicure's  approval. 
The  time  came  when  the  guests  could  eat  no  more. 
Even  Curio,  who  was  such  an  habitual  glutton  that  he 
sometimes  resorted  at  feasts  to  the  indecent  Roman 
practice  of  taking  an  emetic  in  order  to  attack  savory 
viands  with  renewed  appetite  and  vigor,  had  had 
enough.  The  wine  was  still  alluring  and,  already 
freely  partaken  of,  was  yet  to  give  added  heat  to  brains 
that  were  even  now  too  inflamed  to  think  with  sober 
ness.  But  the  feasting  was  over.  The  slaves,  who 
had  been  bringing  on  the  numerous  courses,  all  with 
drew,  and  the  spectacular  entertainments  which  had 
been  anticipated  now  began. 


II 

AT  one  end  of  the  dining  hall  a  stage,  which  had 
been  specially  constructed  for  the  first  perform 
ance  of  the  evening,  now  called  for  the  atten 
tion  of  the  guests.  The  opening  scene  in  Plautus' 
Mostellaria  was  to  be  given,  and  in  the  background  had 
been  painted  on  a  canvas  the  two  houses  in  front  of 
which  the  action  of  the  play  takes  place.  The  plot  of 
the  comedy  is  simple  and,  as  is  so  frequently  the  case  in 
the  plays  of  Plautus,  it  centers  about  a  witty  slave  who 
tries  to  prevent  an  irate  father  from  discovering  the 
vicious  practices  of  his  degenerate  son. 

In  the  Mostellaria  the  father  has  gone  abroad,  and 
in  his  absence  his  son  squanders  the  paternal  substance 
on  gay  and  not  wholly  unblemished  young  men  and 
women.  While  he  is  entertaining  a  group  of  these 
triflers  in  front  of  the  house,  the  slave,  ever  faithful 
to  the  interests  of  his  young  master,  announces  that  the 
father  has  unexpectedly  returned  and  will  shortly  ap 
pear.  The  revelers  flee  into  the  house,  leaving  the 
slave  to  fool  the  father  in  any  way  he  can.  This  he 
tries  to  do  by  pretending  to  the  old  gentleman  that  his 
own  house  is  haunted  and  must  not  be  entered  or  ap 
proached;  but  that  his  son  has  bought  the  adjoining 
house  in  order  to  provide  a  home.  Of  course  the 
clumsy  trick  is  discovered  in  the  end,  and  the  father, 
angry  at  being  duped,  has  to  be  pacified.  But  at  Milo's 

20 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  21 

banquet  only  the  beginning  of  the  play,  which  shows 
the  gay  young  men  and  women  making  merry  over 
their  cups,  was  exhibited;  and  as  the  performance  was 
not  a  public  one,  the  usual  methods  and  restrictions  of 
the  theater  were  set  aside.  The  female  parts  were 
impersonated  by  comely  young  slave  women  and  no 
masks  were  worn.  The  scene  is  a  very  lively  one  and 
it  was  acted  with  a  good  deal  of  spirit.  The  half- 
tipsy  revelers  were  not  restrained  by  any  sentiments  of 
delicacy  either  in  their  actions  or  their  speech,  and  the 
very  license  of  their  behavior  made  a  strong  appeal  to 
Milo's  guests,  who  were  sufficiently  excited  by  their 
frequent  potations  to  wish  that  they  were  enjoying  com 
panions  equally  fair,  with  equal  freedom  from  the  re 
straints  of  propriety.  More  than  one  loud  exclamation 
of  approval  was  evoked  from  them  as  a  telling 
witticism  was  uttered  or  as  the  minor  actors,  who  had 
no  part  in  the  dialogue,  contributed  to  the  spirit  of  the 
scene  by  the  sheer  wantonness  of  their  behavior.  Loud 
and  long  was  the  applause  when  the  slave  came  on 
in  haste  and  trepidation  to  announce  the  unexpected 
and  unwelcome  approach  of  the  father  and  the  revelers 
beat  an  ignominious  retreat,  thus  intimating  that  this 
part  of  the  evening's  entertainment  was  ended.  But 
although  Milo's  riotous  guests  did  not  feel  sorry  to 
miss  the  remaining  scenes  of  the  play  with  its  com 
paratively  tame  intercourse  between  the  deluded  old 
man  and  the  tricky  slave,  they  were  by  no  means  rec 
onciled  to  the  disappearance  of  the  lively  slave  girls 
who  had  amused  and  edified  them  by  the  sprightliness 
and  the  license  of  their  conduct.  Some  of  the  bolder 


22  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

spirits  clamored  for  their  return  and  even  abandoned 
their  couches  and  ran  toward  the  stage  to  find  them  and 
bring  them  back.  But  Milo  somewhat  sternly  re 
minded  them  that  it  was  for  him  as  their  host  to  order 
the  evening's  programme  and  not  for  them  to  take  mat 
ters  into  their  own  hands.  So,  still  protesting  that 
they  should  not  so  suddenly  have  been  deprived  of  that 
which  was  giving  them  pleasure,  they  once  more  took 
their  places  on  the  triclinium. 

The  next  show  was  a  sham  gladitorial  combat. 
Two  old  retired  soldiers  gave  a  skillful  exhibition  of 
thrust  and  parry  with  dull  and  pointless  broadswords, 
but  it  met  with  little  favor.  "  We  want  blood,"  and 
"  Marcus  could  do  it  better,"  were  the  cries  that  were 
heard;  and  the  two  crest-fallen  veterans  were  shouted 
off  the  stage,  but  not  until  Lentulus,  honoring  both 
their  skill  and  the  scars  they  had  received  in  fighting 
Rome's  battles,  had  hurried  forward,  given  each  of 
them  a  coin,  and  praised  them  for  their  mastery  of 
the  Roman  soldiers'  most  formidable  weapon. 

Six  Numidian  acrobats  were  now  introduced,  who 
showed  extraordinary  nimbleness  and  agility  in  bal 
ancing,  tumbling  and  forming  pyramids.  They  were 
lithe,  highly  trained  men  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  for 
a  short  time  their  feats  held  and  interested  the  as 
sembled  company.  There  is  something  in  the  perfect 
control  of  the  bodily  powers  that  fascinates  the  mind 
and  causes  a  thrill  in  the  spectator,  who  pays  uncon 
scious  homage  to  the  self-denial  and  the  long  weary 
hours  of  practice  by  which  alone  the  muscles  can  be 
brought  into  perfect  obedience  to  the  will.  But  the 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  23 

spectators  who  were  gazing  at  these  admirably  trained 
men,  who  did  the  most  difficult  feats  with  the  utmost 
ease  and  without  a  sign  of  nervousness,  were  Romans, 
and  youthful  Romans,  accustomed  to  the  bloody  exhi 
bitions  of  the  arena  and  made  thirsty  for  excitement 
by  wine.  Before  the  performance  of  the  Numidians 
was  over,  they  grew  weary  of  it  and  clamored  for 
something  more  thrilling.  "  Away  with  them,  Milo ! 
We've  seen  enough  of  them,"  they  shouted.  '  This 
is  too  tame.  Show  us  something  that  will  stir  the 
blood!" 

Their  freedom  in  criticizing  and  in  making  demands 
of  their  host  in  this  dictatorial  fashion  was  not  dis 
pleasing  to  Milo.  He  knew  only  too  well  what  kinds 
of  entertainment  would  be  acceptable  to  his  guests;  and 
their  dissatisfaction  with  what  had  been  already  of 
fered  assured  him  that  what  was  to  come  would  secure 
their  hearty  approbation.  To  the  servant  who  was 
chief  overseer  of  the  entire  household  and  who  was 
superintending  and  carrying  out  the  evening's  pro 
gramme  he  gave  the  necessary  signal,  and  the  band  of 
Numidians  gave  way  to  three  Greek  female  tumblers 
who  were  trained  to  do  feats  of  real  danger  to  the 
music  of  the  flute. 

This  performance  was  given  on  the  floor  of  the  din 
ing  hall,  close  to  the  triclinium,  that  it  might  be  viewed 
to  the  best  advantage.  With  the  girls  came  the  flute 
player  who  employed  and  had  trained  them;  also  a  boy 
who  brought  with  him  a  box  containing  a  number  of 
sharp-pointed  swords  with  their  hilts  securely  fixed  in 
square  blocks  of  wood.  Eighteen  of  these  swords  he 


24  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

placed  in  a  circle  which  had  a  diameter  that  was  about 
half  as  much  again  as  the  height  of  a  tall  man.  As  the 
girls  stood  still  during  these  preparations  they  were 
much  admired  by  the  banqueters.  They  had  regular 
and  very  beautiful  features,  thoroughly  Grecian  in 
character;  and  their  shapely  limbs  were  shown  to  ad 
vantage  by  that  scanty  costume  which  may  be  seen  on 
Greek  vases  and  which  is  indeed  necessary  in  order  to 
give  that  ease  and  freedom  of  motion  which  the  per 
formance  of  perilous  feats  demands. 

When  the  swords  had  been  placed,  the  girls,  one 
after  another,  vaulted  lightly  over  the  bristling  points 
into  the  ring.  They  landed  on  their  hands  and,  so 
balancing  themselves,  walked  several  times  around  the 
circle,  just  inside  the  line  of  swords.  It  seemed  as 
easy  for  them  to  walk  on  their  hands  as  on  their  feet. 
Then  the  boy  attendant  contracted  the  circle  of  swords 
considerably,  and  while  he  was  doing  so  two  of  the 
girls  stood  close  together  face  to  face,  in  the  center 
of  the  ring,  with  their  arms  tightly  twined  about  each 
other,  and  the  third  climbed  lightly  upon  their  shoul 
ders.  The  two  who  supported  her  were  sturdily  built, 
of  equal  height,  and  their  resemblance  to  each  other 
plainly  showed  them  to  be  sisters.  The  third  was  more 
slenderly  proportioned  and  not  quite  so  tall. 

All  through  the  performance  the  director  had  been 
playing  a  rather  slow  air  upon  his  flute.  He  now 
played  still  slower,  and  as  he  began  to  do  so  the  slen 
derer  girl  mounted  on  the  heads  of  the  other  two, 
standing  first  on  one  foot  and  then  on  the  other,  while 
the  sisters  turned  round  and  round  keeping  time  to  the 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  25 

music.  Very  gradually  the  measures  of  the  flute  grew 
more  rapid,  and  as  they  became  so  the  two  sisters 
turned  proportionally  faster.  Meanwhile,  the  bal 
ancer  stepped  down  upon  the  shoulders  of  her  sup 
porters  and  from  that  position  placed  her  hands  upon 
the  heads  of  the  two  and  balanced  herself  upon  them 
with  her  legs  in  air,  while  the  sisters  continued  to  turn 
about.  After  she  had  maintained  herself  thus  for  a 
short  time,  the  director  ceased  playing  and  gave  a 
short  sharp  whistle.  The  sisters  stopped  turning  and 
braced  themselves;  and  the  balancer  launched  herself 
forward  into  the  air  by  a  quick  and  powerful  move 
ment  of  the  arms  and  landed  on  her  feet  outside  the 
ring  of  swords. 

The  last  feat  performed  by  the  tumblers  was  an  ex 
hibition  of  head  balancing.  The  swords  were  placed 
in  two  rows  about  three  feet  apart,  and  one  of  the 
sisters  walked  between  the  two  lines,  supporting  at 
the  same  time  the  balancer,  who  skillfully  maintained 
her  equilibrium  with  her  head  resting  on  that  of  the 
one  beneath  her.  Half  the  distance  down  the  two 
lines  of  swords  was  safely  completed,  when  the  spec 
tators  were  seized  with  horror;  for  the  girl  who  was 
being  carried,  lost  her  balance,  cried  out  in  fright,  and, 
in  spite  of  all  efforts  to  save  herself,  began  to  fall. 
But  quick  as  a  flash  the  third  performer,  who  had  been 
standing  some  ten  feet  away,  sprang  to  her  assistance, 
caught  her  by  the  feet  as  she  fell  and  lowered  her 
gently  to  the  floor,  safely  outside  the  row  of  swords. 

A  cry  of  relief  came  from  several  of  the  young  men, 
and  the  impulsive  Caius  declared  that  he  had  never 


26  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

had  such  an  anxious  and  unhappy  moment  in  his  life. 

'  You  needn't  have  been  anxious,"  said  the  ironical 
Cethegus.  ;'  It  was  planned  beforehand.  It  was  all 
a  part  of  the  performance." 

"  Cethegus  always  has  to  play  the  cynic,"  drawled 
Curio,  whose  indolent  nature  had  really  been  roused, 
in  spite  of  the  pasties  he  had  eaten,  by  the  beauty  of 
the  girls  and  their  astonishing  skill.  "  That  slender 
one  was  a  little  darling,  and  my  heart  gave  a  loud 
thump  when  she  began  to  fall.  I  believe  she  had  a 
narrow  escape.  If  she  had  fallen  on  one  of  those 
swords  I  shouldn't  have  eaten  for  twenty-four  hours." 

"  Say  twelve,  Curio,"  said  Lentulus.  "  The  grief 
that  would  keep  you  from  eating  longer  than  that  is 
something  that  none  of  us  could  imagine." 

'Why  don't  you  marry  her,  Curio?"  said  Milo. 
'(  I  don't  believe  you  ever  saw  a  girl  before  who  could 
weaken  your  appetite  for  even  half  an  hour." 

"Jupiter  preserve  me!"  cried  Curio.  'What 
could  I  do  with  a  wife?  " 

"  Feed  her,"  shouted  Bibulus,  to  the  amusement  of 
the  company;  for  this  seemed  all  that  Curio,  with  his 
limited  mental  range,  could  do  by  way  of  entertain 
ment. 

"  But  come!  let  us  drink  to  the  pretty  ones!  "  cried 
Bibulus.  '  Why,  bless  me,  they've  gone  away  while 
we've  been  talking.  By  Pollux,  I'm  sorry.  I  meant 
to  share  a  cup  of  wine  with  that  tall  one  who  had  the 
curly  golden  hair  and  the  bright  blue  eyes.  Say,  bring 
them  back,  you  scowling  disciple  of  Pan,  or  I'll  break 
your  flute  over  your  ugly  mouth !  Bring  them  back,  I 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  27 

say!     We'll  do  them  no  harm." 

"  No,  no !  "  said  Milo,  moved  more  by  regard  for 
decency  than  by  principle.  '  If  you  want  mischief  of 
that  sort,  Bibulus,  you  know  where  to  go  for  it.  You 
shan't  get  it  here." 

"  Well,  they  were  dears  at  any  rate,"  said  Bibulus, 
"  and  I  don't  believe  a  word  that  dried  up  mummy  of 
a  Cethegus  said  about  the  balancing  girl's  fall.  It  was 
pure  accident,  pure  accident.  Go  to  Egypt,  Cethegus, 
and  get  into  a  tomb !  You'd  pass  for  a  mummy  any 
day.  You  haven't  the  flesh  and  blood  of  a  man." 

"  Perhaps  you  have  too  much  flesh  and  blood  to 
think  well,"  said  Marcus,  whose  long  mood  of  apathy 
had  not  prevented  him  from  watching  all  that  took 
place.  "  Cethegus  was  quite  right  about  the  fall.  It 
was  no  accident." 

"  How  do  you  know  that?  "  cried  Bibulus. 

"  They  were  all  too  free  from  excitement,"  answered 
Marcus.  "  Our  friend  the  flute  player  did  not  show 
the  slightest  concern.  And  the  girl  who  caught  the 
balancer  was  on  the  right  side  of  the  sword  row  and 
just  far  enough  away  to  make  it  seem  thrilling,  but 
quite  near  enough  to  save  her  friend.  Do  you  dare 
to  say  no  to  this,  you  rogue  of  a  flutist?  " 

The  flute  player  had  lingered  to  pay  his  parting  re 
spects  to  the  company  and  perhaps  to  hear  a  word  of 
praise  about  the  performance.  For  such  a  question  as 
was  thus  roughly  put  to  him  he  was  unprepared;  but 
his  Grecian  quickness  of  wit  and  readiness  to  dissimu 
late  did  not  fail  him.  He  bowed  low,  smiled  and  said 
suavely, 


28  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

'*  The  performance  is  very  dangerous.  It  is  easy 
for  accidents  to  happen." 

"  That's  all  we  shall  get  out  of  him  on  that  score," 
said  Milo.  "  But  tell  me,  my  good  fellow,  are  these 
girls  Athenians?  " 

"  No,  good  master.  I  get  them  from  the  mountain 
villages  where  they  grow  up  hardy  and  strong." 

"  Have  you  trained  others?  " 

"  Yes,  many." 

"  How  long  does  it  take?  " 

"Three,  four,  or  five  years;  sometimes  from  child 
hood." 

"  Why  so  long?" 

"  Such  great  skill  comes  very  slowly,  and  then 
strength  must  be  developed  very  gradually  or  they 
would  break  down." 

;(  Do  you  pay  them  well?  "  asked  Lentulus. 

The  flute  player  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  They 
eat  well  and  sleep  well  and  see  the  world.  What  more 
could  anyone  wish?  "  Then  he  bowed  low  once  more 
and  left  the  room. 

An  Egyptian  snake  charmer  now  came  upon  the 
stage,  bringing  with  him  a  basket  with  a  tight  fitting 
cover.  With  him  came  another  performer  on  the  flute, 
who  carried  his  musical  instrument  in  one  hand  and  in 
the  other  a  bag  of  stout  cloth.  Intense  interest  in  the 
performance  that  was  to  take  place  was  roused  by  the 
announcement  of  Milo  that  the  charmer  was  to  handle 
Egyptian  asps  whose  fangs  had  not  been  drawn.  Very 
reluctantly  and  only  for  a  very  large  emolument  had 
he  consented  to  run  this  risk. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  29 

"  How  do  you  know  he  is  not  fooling  you?"  in 
quired  Marcus. 

"  He  will  first  of  all  give  proof  that  the  serpents 
are  deadly.  That  is  part  of  the  agreement." 

Marcus  said  no  more  and  the  performance  began. 
Out  of  his  bag  the  flute  player  drew  two  small  and 
ill-conditioned  dogs,  one  of  which  he  held  by  the  neck 
in  each  hand.  Then  the  charmer  opened  his  basket, 
gave  a  sharp  continued  hiss,  and  straightway  two  asps 
crawled  forth.  No  sooner  had  they  reached  the  floor 
of  the  stage  than  the  flutist  threw  a  dog  at  each  so 
forcibly  that  the  asps  were  enraged  and  buried  their 
fangs  viciously  in  the  defenseless  animals,  who  yelped 
piteously  and  showed  the  utmost  terror.  The  very 
instant  that  the  jaws  of  the  snakes  had  closed  upon  the 
flesh  of  the  dogs,  the  charmer  and  his  confederate 
sprang  upon  them.  Each  of  them  seized  an  asp  by 
the  throat  and,  apparently  not  without  difficulty,  pulled 
the  exasperated  reptile  from  its  victim.  The  asps 
were  now  put  back  in  the  basket,  and  the  dogs,  who 
had  utterly  collapsed,  were  passed  to  the  young  men 
on  the  triclinium.  Their  bodies  were  warm  but  they 
were  quite  dead. 

'You  see  how  poisonous  the  serpents  are?"  said 
Milo  to  Marcus. 

;'  I  see,"  answered  Marcus  without  farther  comment. 

The  charmer  waited  a  few  moments  in  order  that 
the  asps,  as  he  explained,  might  become  quiet,  and  then 
gave  a  signal  to  his  partner  who  began  to  play  a  slow 
soothing  air  upon  his  flute.  Again  the  charmer  opened 
his  basket;  again  the  asps  showed  themselves  and 


30  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

crawled  slowly  forth  upon  the  floor.  The  charmer 
grasped  one  of  them  very  gently  with  his  thumb  and 
forefinger  just  behind  its  ugly  triangular  head  and, 
raising  it  slowly  and  cautiously,  let  it  coil  on  the  top 
of  his  head.  There  it  remained  for  a  while,  vibrating 
its  head  and  neck  to  the  rhythm  of  the  flute.  The 
flutist  played  faster.  The  serpent  quickened  its  vibra 
tions  accordingly.  Then  the  time  of  the  music  became 
exceedingly  slow,  and  the  asp  now  crawled  down,  coiled 
round  the  charmer's  neck,  moved  about  over  his  arms 
and  shoulders,  and  was  finally  lifted  up  again  gently  by 
the  neck  and  deposited  in  the  basket. 

The  charmer  now  took  up  the  other  serpent,  which 
lay  coiled  upon  the  floor  listening  to  the  music,  and 
succeeded  in  coiling  it  also  upon  his  head.  But  the 
animal  seemed  to  resent  being  disturbed  and  showed 
its  excitement  by  dilating  the  loose  skin  on  its  neck, 
like  the  hooded  cobra  of  India  to  which  it  is  related. 
A  moment  later,  to  the  dismay  of  those  who  were 
watching  the  performance,  it  crawled  down,  coiled  it 
self  on  the  man's  shoulder  and  bit  him  viciously  on 
the  cheek.  The  man  gave  a  scream,  dropped  upon  the 
stage  and  lay  still,  as  if  he  knew  he  had  met  his  fate 
and  submitted  to  it  with  true  oriental  resignation. 

His  confederate,  however,  sprang  forward,  removed 
the  angry  serpent  and,  acting  with  great  care,  secured 
it  in  the  basket;  while  Milo  and  his  guests  rushed  to 
the  stage  to  see  what  could  be  done  for  the  stricken 
man.  They  all  crowded  about  him  and  some  of  them 
earnestly  inquired  if  there  was  no  remedy  that  could 
save  his  life. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  31 

"  There  is  none,"  said  the  flute  player.  u  My 
friend  will  be  dead  in  a  very  short  time.  No  man 
can  be  bitten  by  an  Egyptian  asp  and  live.  Let  your 
steward,  good  master,  pay  me  the  money  that  was 
promised,  and  let  your  slaves  carry  my  friend  outside. 
I  will  take  him  home  in  my  cart." 

u  I  will  pay  you  double  what  I  agreed,"  cried  Milo, 
full  of  remorse.  '  This  is  a  sorry  business.  I  had  no 
right  to  make  a  man  risk  his  life  to  please  my  friends." 

"  Not  so  fast,"  said  Marcus,  who  had  been  closely 
watching  the  prostrate  man.  "  Some  of  you  keep 
guard  over  that  rascal  and  his  basket  while  I  examine 
this  fellow." 

Thereupon  he  knelt  down,  looked  closely  and  in 
tently  at  the  features  of  the  charmer,  put  his  ear  to  his 
heart  and  felt  of  his  pulse.  Then  he  arose  and  gave 
the  man  a  vigorous  kick. 

"  Get  up,  you  knave !  "  he  said.  "  You  will  live  to 
be  a  fraud  for  many  a  long  year  yet.  This  is  all  a 
sham,"  he  added,  turning  to  his  companions.  "  The 
poison  of  the  asp  acts  quickly,  almost  instantly;  but  this 
man's  features  are  not  swelled,  his  color  is  natural,  his 
breathing  is  regular  and  easy  and  his  pulse  is  good. 
He's  a  cheat,  as  I  felt  sure  from  the  beginning." 

Meanwhile,  the  charmer  had  got  upon  his  feet,  look 
ing  very  sheepish  but  by  no  means  ready  to  acknowl 
edge  that  the  performance  was  the  sham  that  it 
appeared  to  be. 

1  Your  pardon,  good  master,"  he  said,  turning  to 
Milo.  "  I  admit  that  I  have  deceived  you,  for  I  did 
not  take  the  risk  you  thought  I  did.  The  serpents  are 


32  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

deadly,  but  long  ago  I  discovered  an  antidote  to 
their  poison  which  no  one  else,  not  even  my  friend  here, 
knows  anything  about.  I  have  taken  this  antidote  for 
many  years,  and  my  system  is  so  full  of  it  that  the 
poison  of  the  asp  does  not  affect  me  at  all.  Yes,  I 
have  deceived  you,  and  I  ask  your  pardon  a  thousand 
times.  But  I  have  given  you  the  excitement  of  seeing 
me  handle  the  most  poisonous  serpent  in  the  world. 
So,  please  give  me  my  money,  good  master,  and  let 
me  and  my  friend  go  away." 

This  was  all  so  plausibly  said  that  Milo  was  in 
clined  to  think  it  true  and  to  do  as  the  man  requested; 
but  before  he  could  reply,  Marcus  said  sharply  to  the 
charmer, 

*  You  are  lying.  There  is  no  antidote  to  the  poison 
of  the  asp.  The  fangs  of  the  serpents  were  certainly 
drawn." 

"  The  master  is  pleased  to  use  hard  words,"  said 
the  Egyptian  very  suavely,  "  but  I  am  telling  the  truth. 
I  swear  it  by  Isis  and  Osiris." 

1  You  may  swear  it  by  all  the  dirty  gods  and  men  of 
your  dirty  land,  if  you  wish;  but  you  are  lying." 

"  Then  why  did  the  dogs  die,  master?  " 

"  Because  you  killed  them." 

"  That  was  not  possible,  master,"  replied  the  Egyp 
tian,  still  retaining  his  bland,  oily  manner  and  not  be 
traying  the  slightest  irritation.  "  You  would  have 
detected  us." 

"  True  enough,  Marcus,"  said  the  good-natured 
Milo.  "  I  fancy  there  is  some  trickery  here,  but  we 
can  not  prove  it.  I  think  I  will  pay  the  fellow  what  I 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  33 

agreed  and  let  them  both  go." 

"  I  can  prove  it  and  I  will,"  answered  Marcus. 
Thereupon  he  rushed  to  the  basket,  and  before  his 
companions  could  divine  his  purpose  and  stop  him,  they 
saw  him  open  the  basket,  seize  an  asp,  blow  hard  in  its 
face  to  irritate  it  and  then  offer  his  bare  arm  to  its  bite. 
The  enraged  reptile  instantly  plunged  its  teeth  into  his 
flesh.  With  perfect  unconcern,  Marcus  then  threw  the 
creature  back  into  the  basket,  closed  the  cover  and  said 
to  Milo, 

"  You  see  I  have  proved  it." 

"  Yes,  if  you  don't  die  in  ten  minutes,"  said  Lentulus, 
alarmed  and  anxious. 

"  Oh,  I  shan't  die.  When  those  two  rogues  took 
the  asps  off  the  dogs,  I  saw  just  for  an  instant  a  tiny 
flash,  as  if  from  some  bit  of  polished  metal.  Each 
of  them  had,  beyond  a  doubt,  a  needle-like  dagger  in 
his  left  hand  and  stabbed  the  dog  in  the  brain  or  the 
heart  as  he  took  away  the  asp.  You  will  find  the 
wound  somewhere  if  you  choose  to  examine  the  dogs 
carefully.  I  took  no  risk  in  letting  the  snake  bite  me. 
These  rascals  think  too  much  of  themselves  to  play 
with  poisonous  asps.  Give  them  no  money  and  send 
them  packing  at  once." 

The  two  impostors  needed  no  further  hint.  They 
saw  their  trick  was  fully  exposed  and  were  only  too 
glad  to  get  away  with  a  whole  skin.  The  guests  re 
sumed  their  places,  and  Milo  announced  that  the  final 
entertainment  of  the  evening,  to  be  afforded  by  some 
Syrian  dancing  girls,  would  now  be  given  unless  they 
had  all  had  excitement  enough  for  one  evening  and 


34  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

wished  to  go  home. 

"  Go  home  when  we  can  see  dancing  girls?  "  cried 
Bibulus.  "  We  are  not  children  in  arms,  Milo.  Why 
don't  you  ask  us  if  we  want  milk  to  drink?  " 

So  the  girls  were  summoned  and  twelve  of  them 
came  dancing  in,  their  gauzy  costumes  of  varied  and 
pleasing  colors,  their  motions  full  of  poetry  and  grace. 
They  did  not  mount  the  stage,  the  space  of  which  was 
altogether  too  contracted  for  their  breezy  and  expan 
sive  movements.  Now  each  one  danced  seemingly  .as 
she  willed,  and  the  whole  spacious  hall  was  alive  with 
motion  as  the  whirling  figures  rapidly  glided  from  one 
end  of  it  to  the  other  so  lightly  and  airily  that  their 
passage  seemed  more  like  the  flight  of  winged  crea 
tures  than  the  more  cumbrous  advance  that  is  acquired 
by  contact  with  mother  earth.  Again,  they  grouped 
themselves  and  went  through  intricate  figures  with  un 
faltering  precision,  constant  flux  and  change  and  never 
ending  variety.  Indeed,  their  ceaseless  activity,  never 
violent  and  always  full  of  grace  and  charm,  seemed 
like  those  soothing  and  continuous  activities  of  nature 
which,  quiet  though  unresting,  give  to  the  wearied 
senses  a  feeling  of  repose.  They  seemed  like  the 
steady  falling  of  snowflakes  on  a  windless  day;  like  the 
sighing  of  a  summer  breeze  through  waving  branches; 
or  like  the  gentle  murmur  of  a  quiet  sea  as  it  breaks 
upon  the  shore. 

'  The  Greek  maidens  were  clumsy  compared  to  these 
dainty  creatures,"  remarked  the  ever  impulsive  and  en 
thusiastic  Caius. 

"Yes,"     said     his     neighbor,     Bibrax.     "Skillful 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  35 

though  the  Greek  girls  were,  I  am  now  wondering  how 
I  ever  admired  them." 

After  a  number  of  figures  had  been  given  the  group 
dissolved,  and  once  more  the  whirling  dancers  moved 
singly  about  the  room.  Sometimes  they  passed  very 
close  to  the  youths  upon  the  triclinium,  and  several,  in 
a  spirit  of  sauciness  and  audacity,  would  wave  a  salu 
tation  as  they  passed  or  make  an  alluring  motion;  but 
before  the  pleased  and  excited  youth  could  respond, 
the  dancer  would  be  far  away  and  utterly  oblivious  of 
his  presence  and  his  signals. 

Two  of  the  twelve  had  for  some  reason  put  on 
masks,  and  one  of  these  two  passed  close  to  Marcus 
several  times  and  lightly  touched  him  with  a  fan  as  she 
went  by.  Ordinarily  he  would  have  responded  readily 
to  such  an  advance,  but  his  present  moodiness,  which 
had  not  been  shaken  off  in  spite  of  the  exciting  experi 
ence  with  the  snake  charmer,  caused  him  to  be  annoyed 
rather  than  pleased  by  the  attentions  of  the  dancer. 
But  her  repeated  endeavor  to  rouse  his  interest  finally 
made  him  at  least  curious  enough  to  watch  her  closely 
as  she  again  approached.  This  time,  seeing  that  his 
eyes  were  upon  her,  she  gave  a  signal  to  indicate  cau 
tion,  slowed  her  steps  as  she  neared  him  and  dexter 
ously  thrust  a  billet  under  his  sandal  as  she  passed  by. 
The  act  was  quite  unobserved  by  Marcus'  neighbors* 
so  cleverly  was  it  done  and  so  intent  were  they  all  in 
watching  the  dancers,  and  Marcus  possessed  himself 
of  the  folded  missive  and  read  it  without  attracting  at 
tention.  It  said :  The  lady  Julia  has  bidden  me  g'we 
you  this  and  she  hopes  that  you  will  wait  on  her  to-mor- 


3 6  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

row. 

The  dancing  now  grew  more  rapid,  losing  thereby 
some  of  its  charm  but  appealing  all  the  more  strongly 
to  the  revelers,  especially  to  those  who  had  drunk  with 
out  moderation.  The  more  riotous  spirits  among  them 
watched  the  dancers  with  growing  excitement  and,  los 
ing  control  of  themselves,  began  to  leap  from  the  tri 
clinium  and  pursue  the  whirling  figures.  But  the  girls 
had  anticipated  this  attempt  to  break  down  the  bar 
riers  of  decency.  In  response  to  some  signal  known 
only  to  themselves  they  had  assembled  near  the  stage, 
and  thence  they  glided  rapidly  out  of  the  room. 

The  desperate  youths  would  have  pursued  them,  but 
Milo,  assisted  by  Lentulus  and  Marcus,  blocked  the 
way.  "Bring  them  back!  Bring  them  back,  Milo! 
We  will  have  them  back!  "  shouted  Bibulus  and  Caius 
and  others  equally  wild.  But  Milo  positively  refused, 
and  the  intoxicated  revelers  drowned  their  disappoint 
ment  by  further  potations.  They  rushed  to  the  wine 
bowl  and  drained  beaker  after  beaker,  till  they  could 
but  throw  themselves  down  upon  the  triclinium  utterly 
bereft  of  their  senses.  Some  of  them,  indeed,  fell  upon 
the  floor  and  dropped  at  once  into  a  heavy  sleep. 
These  were  with  difficulty  conveyed  home  by  their 
slaves.  Marcus,  Lentulus  and  Cethegus  thanked  Milo 
for  his  generous  entertainment  and  unaided  sought 
their  respective  abodes. 


Ill 

THE  political  tyranny  of  the  Orient  was  barred 
from  European  civilization  by  Marathon  and 
Salamis.      Its  household  tyranny  was   not  so 
easily  confined  to  Asiatic  shores.     That  petty  despot 
ism  was  so  far  exercised  in  ancient  Greece  and  Rome 
as  to  keep  women  in  seclusion  and  to  prevent  the  free 
intercourse  of  the  sexes  that  prevails  in  the  modern 
western  world. 

Against  this  seclusion  the  women  of  Athens  made 
protest,  as  the  plays  of  Aristophanes  bear  witness.  At 
Rome  the  barriers  were  actually  beaten  down,  but  the 
freedom  that  was  gained  was  terribly  abused.  Women 
were  not  content  with  passing  beyond  the  domestic 
threshold  and  sitting  in  the  theater.  They  contested 
in  the  arena  and  openly  indulged  in  wanton  and  shame 
less  living. 

But  with  all  this  freedom  the  restrictions  that  had 
long  existed  could  not  be  wholly  set  aside.  Not  even 
under  the  lax  usages  of  the  Empire  could  the  sexes 
meet  unrestrainedly.  The  widely  varying  functions 
that  bring  men  and  women  together  to-day  were  not 
even  conceivable  to  the  Roman  mind  in  the  days  of 
Tiberius.  The  lawn  or  garden  festivity,  the  social 
reception,  the  club  dinner,  the  ball  attended  by  both 
sexes,  to  say  nothing  of  the  more  solemn  assemblages 
gathered  by  organized  philanthropic  effort  or  by  re- 

37 


3  8  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

ligious  zeal,  were  foreign  to  the  whole  spirit  and 
structure  of  Roman  society.  Still  the  leaven  of  unrest 
and  innovation  was  at  work.  Traditions  were  defied 
by  the  unprincipled  and  the  audacious.  Men  and 
women  mingled  on  occasions  when  usage  and  conven 
tion  would  have  kept  them  apart. 

Such  occasions  were  created  especially  by  the  ambi 
tious,  who  tried  to  gain  social  prestige  by  defying  the 
restraints  under  which  the  adventurous  and  the  mor 
ally  easy-going  were  now  chafing.  And  such  an  oc 
casion  had  been  made  by  Latinius  Latiaris  about  a 
month  before  Milo's  banquet  in  honor  of  his  friend 
Marcus  took  place.  This  unscrupulous  man,  who 
afterwards  showed  his  depraved  character  by  bringing 
the  knight  Sabinus  foully  to  his  death,  invited  mem 
bers  of  various  well  known  Roman  families  to  come 
to  an  evening  entertainment  at  his  house  on  the  Esqui- 
line.  The  entertainment  was  to  be  partly  literary, 
and  Remmius  Palaemon  had  been  chosen  to  edify  and 
instruct  the  assembled  guests.  This  rhetorician  of  un 
savory  character  possessed  a  remarkable  memory  and 
a  unique  power  of  expressing  himself  extemporane 
ously  in  meter.  Even  a  Roman  audience,  thirsting 
for  excitement,  could  for  a  short  time  be  held  and 
charmed  by  his  fluent  speech.  But  Latiaris  knew  well 
that  he  must  provide  other  gratification  than  poetry 
and  rhetoric.  Accordingly,  the  clever  master  of 
verbosity  was  to  be  followed  by  dancers  and  other 
performers  who  ministered  to  the  senses  rather  than  to 
the  mind.  Women  as  well  as  men  were  included  in 
the  invitation;  and  women  of  all  ages  gathered  on  the 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  39 

appointed  evening  at  the  brilliantly  lighted  atrium  in 
the  house  of  Latiaris. 

There  were  elderly  dames,  obese,  painted  and  pow 
dered,  whose  dull  faces  were  only  animated  by  a 
beady  and  malicious  eye.  There  were  patrician  ma 
trons  whose  clear-cut  features  showed  even  in  age  the 
stately  dignity  of  an  imperious  race.  There  were 
wives  of  wealthy  plebeians,  richly  gowned  and  richly 
jeweled,  who  moved  joyously  but  clumsily  through 
the  brilliant  throng.  No  little  satisfaction  did  they 
take  in  elbowing  the  haughty  descendants  of  the  men 
who  had  brought  the  Gracchi  to  a  bloody  end.  There 
were  women  whose  one  delight  was  in  scandal  and 
whose  taste  found  abundant  gratification  in  those  li 
centious  times.  Instinctively  these  grouped  them 
selves  together,  and  the  animated  whisper,  the  mur 
murs  of  astonishment  and  the  suppressed  laughter  over 
the  witty  and  salacious  story,  gave  evidence  of  un 
worthy  enjoyment.  There  were  fond  mothers  with 
no  eye  for  any  but  their  own  daughters;  and  there 
were  daughters  themselves,  graceful,  stately,  fair  at 
all  times,  and  now  radiantly  fair  as  their  eyes  sparkled 
with  the  glow  of  joyous  youthful  womanhood. 

Palaemon  was  about  to  speak.  The  guests  began  to 
seat  themselves.  Among  them  was  Cethegus,  with 
whom  the  reader  has  already  made  acquaintance.  He 
found  a  place  in  the  rear  where  he  could  survey  the 
whole  assemblage  to  his  satisfaction.  Scarcely  had  he 
taken  his  seat,  however,  when  he  was  eagerly  accosted 
by  an  acquaintance,  Calvius  Tubero  by  name,  who 
pointed  to  a  tall  and  strikingly  beautiful  girl  and  de- 


40  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

manded  to  know  who  she  was. 

Cethegus  was  bored.  Calvius  he  regarded  as  an 
empty-headed  coxcomb,  and  he  was  not  pleased  to  find 
that  he  was  to  have  such  an  uninteresting  person  as 
his  neighbor.  He  did  not,  therefore,  show  a  re 
sponsive  spirit  to  the  excited  mood  of  his  ques 
tioner.  Amused  and  at  the  same  time  disdain 
ful,  he  looked  for  a  few  moments  at  the  youth's  well 
oiled  and  perfumed  locks  and  vacuous  face.  But 
though  caustic  and  cynical,  he  was  not  unmannerly  and 
he  presently  replied, 

'  That  is  Julia,  the  daughter  of  Cornelius  Veltrius." 

"  By  Pollux,  she's  a  peacock!  I  tell  you  she's  the 
handsomest  woman  here  to-night." 

4  You  needn't  speak  as  if  you  were  trying  to  set 
some  one  right.  There  is  no  one  who  will  gainsay 
you." 

"  How  tall  and  magnificent  she  is!  That  quarrel 
some  wife  of  Jupiter  couldn't  vie  with  her.  Why, 
she  moves  about  like  a  queen." 

"  She's  likely  to  be  one  sometime." 

"What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  She  is  very  ambitious,  and  ambition  helped  by  such 
beauty  can  win  anything.  She  may  be  an  emperor's 
wife  some  day." 

"  You  know  her  then?  " 

u  I  know  her  brother  Milo.  I  go  to  her  father's 
house." 

"  Cethegus,  I  want  to  know  Milo  too.  Make  me 
acquainted!  " 

"  Thank  you !     I  fear  I  must  decline  the  honor." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  41 

"But  why?" 

"  Milo  has  friends  enough.  If  he  had  to  know  all 
the  young  men  who  would  like  to  meet  him  on  account 
of  his  sister,  he  would  have  to  imitate  the  politician 
and  get  a  parasite  to  go  about  with  him  and  whisper 
the  names  of  those  he  saw  approaching." 

"  But  I  must  know  him.  I  must  get  acquainted  with 
that  beautiful  sister  of  his." 

'  What  for?     To  make  her  an  offer  of  marriage?  " 

'Why  not?  I'm  a  decent  sort  of  a  fellow,  as  I 
told  you;  and  I'm  rich  as  Crassus  was." 

Cethegus  looked  about  him.  The  chairs  in  which 
he  and  Calvius  sat  were  so  placed  that  their  conversa 
tion  could  not  easily  be  overheard.  All  around  was 
the  buzz  of  people  busily  talking,  for  the  rhetorician 
had  not  yet  been  presented  to  his  audience.  Appar 
ently  there  was  still  a  brief  opportunity  for  further 
speech.  So  he  turned  to  his  tiresome  companion  and 
said, 

u  Calvius,  let  me  give  you  a  word  of  advice.  Julia, 
the  daughter  of  Veltrius,  is  the  most  beautiful  woman 
in  Rome.  She  is  as  clever  and  accomplished  as  she  is 
beautiful.  She  is  only  twenty,  but  she  has  the  mind 
and  the  maturity  of  a  much  older  woman.  She  has 
read  and  studied  much.  She  knows  all  that  Euripides 
and  Ovid  and  Horace  can  teach  about  men  and  women, 
and  all  that  Aristotle  and  Cicero  have  to  tell  us  about 
the  state.  Yet  her  heart  is  not  in  such  things.  She 
wants  power  and  greatness.  She  seeks  knowledge 
simply  to  use  it  for  that  end.  And  she  will  use  it  with 
rare  skill.  She  is  high-spirited,  audacious,  witty,  and 


42  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

quick  to  read  other  people.  She  is  by  no  means  with 
out  heart  and  her  affection  once  given  will  be  like  an 
oak  tree  whose  roots  are  deep  enough  to  make  it  stand 
against  the  storms.  But  it  will  only  be  given  to  a 
man  who  can  win  for  her  the  things  she  wants.  Take 
my  advice,  then,  and  don't  try  to  get  acquainted  with 
her  family  with  a  view  to  winning  her  unless  you 
have  a  good  deal  to  offer  her  besides  money !  And  to 
speak  plainly,  my  perfumed  friend,  I  don't  think  you 
have  very  much.  If  you  should  find  means  of  know 
ing  her,  she  might  amuse  herself  with  you.  She  would 
very  likely  use  you  if  she  saw  that  your  wealth  gave 
you  influence.  But  she  would  not  think  you  were  any 
thing  better  than  a  joke.  So,  unless  you  can  go  to  her 
with  a  note  from  Tiberius,  saying  that  he  has  decided 
to  make  you  heir  to  the  Empire,  you  will  do  well  to 
keep  away  from  her  altogether.  Even  your  decency 
would  count  for  little  with  her.  She  likes  men  who 
can  do  things,  and  honestly  she  would  like  you  better 
if  you  had  been  the  undoing  of  many  a  pretty  maid 
and  were  considered  the  most  dangerous  man  in  Rome. 
A  man  of  that  kind  she  would  take  some  pride  in 
bringing  to  her  feet.  But  I  see  that  the  disciple  — 
shall  I  say  of  Homer  or  of  Plato?  —  is  about  to  begin 
and  I  must  stop.  But  if  you  are  half  as  wise  as  you 
ought  to  be,  I  have  said  enough." 

Palaemon's  facility  in  expression  was  so  great  that 
he  succeeded  in  amusing  his  audience  for  the  better 
part  of  an  hour.  At  the  end  of  that  time  he  was  clever 
enough  to  see  that  his  hearers  were  beginning  to  long 
for  the  less  intellectual  and  less  refined  enjoyments  that 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  43 

had  been  promised  them.  He  therefore  brought  to  a 
summary  close  a  brilliant  but  highly  flavored  parody 
of  Ovid's  charming  story  of  Pyramus  and  Thisbe,  into 
which  he  had  worked  many  fancies  of  a  decidedly 
salacious  character;  but  so  subtly  were  they  suggested 
that  open  criticism  could  not  well  be  made  upon  them. 
He  was  followed  by  dancing  girls,  whose  performance 
was  received  by  most  of  those  present  with  much  favor 
and  was  not  indeed  immodest.  Many  of  the  women 
there  would  have  resented  any  rude  affront  to  their 
sense  of  decorum,  and  Latiaris  was  too  wise  though 
by  no  means  too  high-minded  to  offend  them.  But 
there  were  a  few  of  the  guests  who  found  this  bald 
appeal  to  the  senses  rather  tiresome  than  enjoyable, 
and  among  these  were  Cethegus  and  the  daughter  of 
Veltrius.  As  the  company  had  begun  to  circle  about 
somewhat  freely  after  the  rhetorician  had  stopped 
speaking,  these  two  soon  chanced  to  find  themselves 
face  to  face,  though  possibly  the  footsteps  of  Cethe 
gus  had  been  guided  less  by  chance  than  by  inten 
tion. 

"  Our  host  is  liberal,"  said  he,  after  they  had  ex 
changed  greetings.  "  He  has  drawn  freely  upon  the 
Muses  for  our  entertainment." 

"  Muses?  Muses?  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that 
those  scrawny  creatures  ever  footed  it  with  Apollo 
upon  the  slopes  of  Helicon?  " 

Cethegus  looked  critically  at  the  dancers  and  shook 
his  head.  "  Impossible,"  he  said.  "  Apollo  had 
taste.  He  could  not  have  endured  such  intimacy." 

"  Where  are  your  Muses,  then?  " 


44  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

"  Where  Publius  Ovidius  Naso  is,  perhaps.  He 
was  with  us  to-night,  but  we  did  not  see  him." 

"  You  evade  me  very  adroitly,  but  I  will  be  an 
swered.  What  Muses  are  here  to-night,  if  only  as 
ghosts?" 

"  Can  you  ask  after  hearing  Palaemon's  varied  and 
wordy  feat?  Polyhymnia  surely  taught  him  rhetoric; 
Clio,  the  art  of  narrating  tales  with  touches  that  make 
Herodotus  and  Livy  seem  tame;  none  but  Calliope 
could  have  shown  him  how  to  imitate  Vergil;  Euterpe 
it  must  have  been  that  suggested  those  amusing  paro 
dies  of  Horace's  lyrics;  and  that  spicy  account  of  the 
amorous  Pyramus  and  his  beloved  Thisbe  could  only 
have  been  inspired  by  Erato.  Hence,  you  see  that  five 
of  the  Nine  Erudite  Ladies  have  already  contributed 
to  our  amusement;  and  you  have  only  to  look  at  those 
dancers  to  realize  that  Terpsichore  has  also  been 
pressed  into  service  for  the  occasion.  Six  Muses  al 
together  have  been  called  upon.  Was  I  not  right, 
therefore,  in  saying  that  our  host  had  provided  liber 
ally  for  us?  " 

"  Yes.  The  pears,  I  admit,  are  abundant.  Da 
you  like  their  flavor?  " 

"  I  should  not  swallow  them  whole  and  be  choked, 
like  poor  Drusus." 

"  A  victim  to  gluttony.     What  an  ignoble  end!  " 

"  No,  a  victim  to  sport.  He  was  simply  trying  to 
play  ball  with  his  mouth." 

"  I  am  sure  it  was  gluttony.  We  Romans  are  all 
so  greedy." 

'  There  are  exceptions.     I  for  one  do  not  gulp  my 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  45 

pleasures." 

"  A  shining  exception  you,  who  go  with  the  most 
riotous  youths  in  Rome." 

"  One  of  the  leaders  of  them  being  your  own 
brother." 

"  Milo!  He  only  condemns  you.  He  has  no  am 
bition." 

"  And  would  only  be  a  mark  for  the  informers  if 
he  had." 

"  *  "AnavTa  fdp  rot  rcfj  yoftoofjievq)  (fjcxpef  ?  Read  So 
phocles  and  be  ashamed." 

"  That  means,  does  it  not?  *  The  timid  man  hears 
noises  all  the  time.7  ' 

"  Yes,  and  he  also  sees  *  a  scorpion  watching  under 
every  stone.'  ' 

"  I  must  search  my  memory  for  a  stichomuthia, 
though  it  is  long  since  I  have  looked  at  Sophocles." 

"  No,  there  has  been  stichomuthia  enough  between 
us  already.  Search  rather  for  the  will  to  rise.  If  you 
rise  high  enough,  the  informers  cannot  touch  you." 

Julia  passed  on  and  Cethegus  tried  to  be  amused  by 
the  diversions,  chiefly  spectacular,  that  one  after  an 
other  were  presented.  Two  Greek  jugglers,  who  kept 
a  large  number  of  colored  balls  in  the  air  at  the  same 
time,  he  found  entertaining.  A  Chaldaean  astrologer, 
who  made  a  clever  attempt  to  predict  the  futures  of 
some  of  the  guests,  really  interested  him  by  the  adroit 
ness  of  his  guessing.  But  he  was  rather  pleased  than 
sorry  when  the  company  dispersed  shortly  before  the 
midnight  hour;  and  as  he  wended  his  way  homeward, 
he  found  himself  wondering  what  the  men  who  crushed 


46  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

Hannibal  would  have  thought  of  the  evening's  enter 
tainment,  with  its  mingling  of  the  sexes,  its  ostenta 
tion,  and  its  appeal  to  the  lower  emotions. 


IV 

CETHEGUS  had  accurately  pictured  Julia  to  his 
'  perfumed  friend.'  Tall,  stately,  with  perfect 
features,  dark  lustrous  eyes,  and  a  brilliant  com 
plexion  set  off  by  abundant  raven  black  hair,  the 
daughter  of  Veltrius  might  well  be  considered  the 
most  beautiful  woman  in  Rome.  She  was  fully  con 
scious  of  her  beauty.  She  was  conscious,  too,  that 
she  had  wit  and  cleverness,  and  she  was  eager  to  know 
the  world.  She  had  only  to  know  it,  she  felt  sure,  to 
subdue  and  to  command  it.  Her  one  constant  longing 
was  for  power. 

Yet,  as  Cethegus  had  affirmed,  she  had  a  heart. 
She  was  passionately  attached  to  Marcus,  and  she  was 
growing  impatient  because  he  did  not  show  unmistak 
ably  that  he  returned  her  affection.  Willful  and  ex 
acting,  she  was  beginning  to  manifest  her  impatience 
without  due  caution  and  reserve. 

That  her  feelings  were  not  well  regulated  and  her 
temper  was  imperious  was  not  altogether  her  own 
fault.  From  childhood  she  had  been  petted  and  hu 
mored.  Her  mother  was  a  patrician  of  illustrious 
family  and  was  excessively  proud  of  the  daughter  who 
gave  such  unmistakable  signs  of  distinguished  lineage. 
Her  father  was  of  humbler  origin  and  he  was  even 
more  exultant  over  the  fact  that  a  strain  of  high 
breeding  was  strikingly  apparent  in  his  offspring.  So 

47 


48  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

both  parents  indulged  Julia's  every  whim  and  uncon 
sciously  did  all  they  could  to  make  her  self-willed. 

For  all  that,  she  was  by  nature  too  womanly,  too  self- 
respecting  and  too  proud  to  betray  easily  her  most  pro 
found  and  sacred  feelings.  But  she  had  a  peculiar 
sense  that  Marcus  had  belonged  to  her  ever  since  she 
had  known  him.  Their  acquaintance  began  when  she 
was  fifteen  and  he  a  year  older.  Even  then,  so  rap 
idly  had  she  matured  under  the  glowing  sun  of  Italy, 
she  was  not  too  young  to  feel  deeply  and  to  cherish 
soaring  ambitions.  In  Marcus  she  saw  a  youth  des 
tined  for  large  achievement.  If  she  could  stand  at 
his  side,  what  might  they  not  win  together?  His  in 
timacy  with  Milo  brought  him  often  to  her  father's 
house.  Very  adroitly  she  cultivated  his  acquaintance 
and  established  a  relation  of  sympathy  and  friendship- 
The  sympathy  was  indeed  genuine,  for  they  had  much 
to  share;  and  on  her  part  it  soon  deepened  into  a  pro 
found  regard  and  affection. 

This  affection  she  felt  it  natural  that  Marcus  should 
reciprocate.  She  was  sure  that  she  was  the  one 
woman  in  the  world  fitted  to  stand  at  his  side  and  help 
him  attain  the  supreme  success  that  belonged  to  him. 
But  time  passed  and  Marcus  gave  no  sign  that  he  also 
felt  this  to  be  true.  Accordingly,  she  tried  to  secure 
for  herself  a  larger  place  in  his  thought,  considering  it 
a  not  unwomanly  part  to  fan  into  a  flame  the  sparks 
that  she  felt  sure  had  been  already  kindled. 

And  in  truth  Marcus  was  not  indifferent.  His  tem 
perament  was  ardent.  As  events  were  soon  to  show, 
he  was  ready  to  be  profoundly  swayed  by  passion. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  49 

But  so  great  was  his  longing  for  action  that  his 
thoughts  were  not  upon  marriage.  He  had  a  wild 
and  restless  craving  to  do  dangerous  and  daring  deeds. 
Moreover,  he  was  sensitive  to  the  charm  of  womanly 
reserve  and  delicacy.  Hence,  Julia,  in  her  confidence 
that  the  affection  she  yearned  for  really  existed  and 
only  needed  to  find  its  channels  of  expression,  was 
making  the  mistake  that  a  woman  almost  invariably 
makes  when  she  takes  the  initiative  in  dealing  with 
what  is  at  once  the  most  profound  and  the  most  com 
plex  of  all  the  emotions.  She  was  making  Marcus 
less  inclined  to  seek  her  society. 

Naturally,  therefore,  he  was  not  pleased  to  receive 
her  summons  at  Milo's  banquet.  For  a  particular 
reason  he  was  decidedly  displeased.  Still,  he  did  not 
for  a  moment  think  of  disregarding  the  request.  Ac 
cordingly,  the  day  after  the  banquet  found  him  making 
his  way  to  the  mansion  of  Veltrius  on  the  Aventine 
Hill. 

Accustomed  to  have  her  way  in  all  things,  whether 
or  not  she  ran  counter  to  the  ideas  and  conventions  of 
her  times,  Julia  received  her  friends  of  either  sex  in  a 
parlor  of  her  own.  It  was  a  richly  furnished  and 
decorated  room  that  was  entered  from  the  atrium  and 
also  from  a  private  corridor  that  led  to  her  own  apart 
ment.  Here  Marcus  was  shown;  and,  familiar 
though  he  was  with  the  room,  he  gazed  searchingly 
about  him  while  he  awaited  her  coming.  The  two 
entrances  were  closed  with  crimson  hangings.  The 
walls  were  decorated  with  reds  that  shaded  into  yel 
low;  but  spaces  had  been  reserved  for  paintings  that 


5o  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

had  been  laid  directly  on  the  walls  with  the  brush;  and 
the  ceiling  had  been  adorned  in  a  similar  way. 

The  pictures  all  had  a  common  theme.  They  rep 
resented  women  in  action.  On  the  ceiling  was  de 
picted  Antigone  throwing  dust  on  the  body  of  her 
brother.  On  the  walls  were  representations  of  Nau- 
sicaa  playing  ball  with  her  maidens  by  the  river, 
Artemisia  guiding  her  vessel  at  Salamis,  Camilla  con 
tending  with  ^Eneas,  and  Cloelia  swimming  the  Tiber. 
The  paintings  had  all  been  cleverly  designed  and  they 
had  been  executed  with  admirable  skill.  Hence,  their 
respective  subjects  were  easily  understood  and  their 
quiet  tones  were  in  pleasing  contrast  to  the  sumptuous- 
ness  of  the  room.  Strong  color  met  the  eye  when  it 
was  directed  to  the  floor,  where  lay  a  large  purple 
Babylonian  rug;  while  statuettes  of  marble  and  bronze, 
tables  of  onyx,  and  chairs  with  elaborately  designed 
bronze  legs  resting  on  silver  feet  gave  the  apartment 
an  air  of  luxury  and  of  lavish  ornamentation.  Easily 
might  one  have  a  feeling  of  oppression  after  lingering 
long  in  it. 

Quite  in  keeping  with  the  tone  of  the  apartment 
was  the  appearance  of  Julia  herself  when  she  entered 
it  after  Marcus  had  waited  for  her  a  few  moments. 
She  bore  herself  like  a  princess  and  she  was  arrayed 
like  one.  Her  loose  garment  well  revealed  her  lithe 
and  sinuous  figure.  It  was  of  crimson  silk,  richly  em 
broidered  and  bordered  with  a  broad  band  of  white. 
About  her  neck  was  a  chaplet  of  pearls;  and  rubies, 
emeralds  and  sapphires  flashed  from  the  bracelets  on 
her  uncovered  arms  and  from  the  gold  ornaments 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  51 

that  bound  the  massive  coils  of  her  hair.  Animated 
at  all  times,  she  had  now  that  peculiarly  winsome  and 
joyous  expression  which  a  woman  wears  when  she 
meets  the  man  she  loves.  Her  eyes  sparkled  with 
pleasure  and  she  was  bewitchingly  and  gloriously  beau 
tiful  as  she  advanced  to  meet  Marcus  with  stately 
step,  yet  with  her  face  wreathed  in  smiles,  her  hand 
outstretched  and  her  whole  presence  betokening  wel 
come.  Almost  would  Marcus,  despite  himself,  have 
clasped  her  in  his  arms  and  uttered  the  words  of  en 
dearment  which  his  heart  assured  him  would  not  be 
unwelcome,  had  he  not  had  in  his  mind  a  sweeter  and 
purer  vision  of  womanly  loveliness. 

Somewhat  coldly  he  went  forward  to  meet  her,  and 
his  greeting,  which  was  formal  and  constrained,  gave 
no  response  to  her  own  expressive  and  animated  man 
ner.  Deeply  chagrined  by  his  reserve,  she  yet  main 
tained  sufficient  control  over  her  feelings  to  prevent 
him  from  seeing  any  outward  evidence  of  the  wound 
he  had  given.  She  had  not,  indeed,  the  power  to  con 
ceal  her  emotions  long  and  to  suffer  and  give  no  sign 
after  being  exasperated  by  slights  and  by  continuous 
failure  to  gain  her  cherished  ends.  But  she  could 
fight  a  woman's  battle  with  energy  and  spirit  and,  in 
spite  of  Marcus'  reserved  manner,  her  own  greeting 
had  no  lack  of  cordiality  and  heartiness. 

"  So  you  really  deigned  to  come,"  she  exclaimed  as 
she  seated  herself  near  him  and  spoke  in  a  tone  of 
lively  raillery.  "  You  were  so  moody  last  night  that 
I  wondered  whether  your  high  and  mighty  lordship 
could  so  far  forget  yourself  as  to  give  a  lady  and  an 


52  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

old  friend  the  privilege  of  seeing  you." 
"  How  did  you  know  I  was  moody?  " 
"How  did  I  know?  Didn't  I  —  didn't  Milo  tell 
me  the  whole  story  of  the  banquet?  Didn't  he  inform 
me  how  you  came  in  late,  how  unsocial  and  quiet  you 
were,  and  yet  how  you  had  your  wits  about  you  and 
saw  through  the  trickery  of  the  snake  charmer?  Oh, 
what  a  splendid  thing  it  is  to  be  a  man,  to  have  the  will 
and  the  strength  and  the  courage  of  a  man !  But  how 
could  you  do  it,  Marcus?  How  could  you  run  such  a 
fearful  risk  just  to  expose  a  worthless  Egyptian  im 
postor?  " 

"  I  ran  no  risk.  I  watched  the  fellow's  movements 
too  closely.  I  was  never  surer  of  anything  than  I 
was  that  those  two  asps  had  been  made  harmless." 

"  Yes,    but    you    acted    on    your    conviction.     Any 
other  man,  even  if  he  had  worked  it  out  correctly  in 
his  mind,  would  have  been  afraid  to  act.     You  are  a 
man  among  men,  Marcus.     You  will  do  great  things 
some    day.     Perhaps    you    will    be    Emperor.     Who 
knows?     But  I  want  to  know  why  you  were  moody. 
I  want  to  know  what  trouble  you  are  in." 
"  I  am  not  in  any  trouble." 
"  But  you  were  not  yourself  last  night." 
"  What  of  that?     We  all  have  our  quiet  moods." 
"  But   you    don't.     It    isn't   like   you    to    be    quiet. 
Those    dancing    girls  —  how    bewitching    they    were ! 
Your  companions  were  as  fascinated  by  them  as  Ulys 
ses  was  by  the  Sirens;  but  you,  dull  man,  hardly  looked 
at  them.     Why,  I  thought,  when  Milo  told  me  about 
it  —  really,  Marcus,  you  must  have  some  burden  on 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  53 

your  mind." 

u  What  was  it  you  thought,  Julia?  " 

"  What  did  I  think?  Why,  I've  thought  innumer 
able  things  at  innumerable  times  and  places  that  were 
never  worth  thinking  at  all,  much  less  inquiring  about. 
But  just  now  I  am  thinking  that  you  are  a  very  im 
pertinent  fellow  for  wanting  to  know  what  I  thought. 
A  lady's  thoughts  are  her  own,  sirrah!  " 

"  How  about  a  man's?  " 

"A  man's?  Dear  me,  how  deep  and  crafty  you 
are!  You  mean  to  turn  the  tables  on  me  and  to  adopt 
my  own  excuse  for  covering  up  what  is  on  your  mind. 
But  I  am  going  to  pull  your  house  down  about  your 
ears.  Have  you  lived  twenty-one  years,  my  dear 
Marcus,  and  never  yet  learned  that  a  woman  is  not  to 
be  treated  like  a  man,  that  her  mind  isn't  made  like 
that  of  a  man,  and  that  it  may  have  things  in  it  that 
must  never  be  known  by  a  man?  " 

"  Supposing  we  change  the  subject,"  said  Marcus 
abruptly.  "  Who  taught  you  to  dance,  Julia?  " 

"Who  taught  me  to  dance?  Now,  why  do  you 
wish  to  know  that?  " 

"  Never  mind.     Who  was  it?  " 

"  One  of  the  masters  of  the  art.  My  father  en 
gaged  him.  He  has  given  me  lessons  here  in  the 
house  for  two  or  three  years." 

"  Perhaps  he  is  the  same  one  that  trained  the  Syrian 
girls  and  hires  them  out." 

"  Perhaps  he  is.     How  should  I  know?  " 

"  In  the  ordinary  way." 

"  What  is  that,  pray?" 


54  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

"  Simply  by  using  your  eyes." 

"You  masterful  man!  "  said  Julia,  looking  at  him 
fixedly,  her  eyes  flashing  fire.  "  You've  found  me 
out.  I  won't  be  questioned  and  cornered  like  a  child. 
I'll  own  up  to  my  doings  at  once.  Yes,  I  was  one  of 
the  dancers  last  night.  I  wore  a  mask.  I  was  the 
one  that  passed  you  the  billet.  But  how  did  you  sus 
pect?  Change  the  subject,  indeed!  You  changed  it 
just  to  carry  your  point  with  a  real  man's  persistency. 
Talk  about  a  woman's  curiosity!  It  is  nothing  to  a 
man's.  But  tell  me,  how  did  you  know?  " 

"  Many  things  suggested  the  idea  to  me.  Your 
ceaseless  movement  last  night  could  not  wholly  dis 
guise  your  carriage.  I  was  suspicious  when  I  received 
the  billet.  Then  you  tripped  twice  in  your  speech  just 
now  and  began  to  speak  as  if  you  yourself  had  seen 
and  heard  what  I  and  the  others  were  doing  last 
night." 

"  Say  no  more  and  do  not  add  to  your  offense  by 
asking  how  I  came  to  do  it  and  lecturing  me  as  if  I 
were  not  my  own  mistress !  You've  wormed  my  se 
cret  out  of  me.  Let  that  satisfy  you!  If  you  think 
I  did  a  wild  and  foolish  thing,  keep  your  opinion  to 
yourself!  I  have  no  apology  to  make.  My  dancing 
master  is  the  same  one  that  hires  out  the  Syrian  girls. 
I  got  him  to  teach  me  all  the  steps  and  figures  they 
were  to  use;  and  I  made  one  of  the  girls  mask  herself 
that  my  own  mask  might  not  be  too  conspicuous  and 
excite  curiosity.  Why  should  I  not  have  done  it?  It 
is  easy  for  you  to  criticize  —  you,  a  man,  with  a  man's 
freedom,  a  man's  power  to  go  out  and  do  things  in 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  55 

the  world.  But  supposing  you  had  your  own  spirit 
and  energy  and  a  woman's  body  —  how  cramped  and 
straitened  and  wretched  you  would  feell  It  is  such 
a  poor,  petty,  narrow  and  one-sided  life  that  women 
lead.  I  have  to  spend  much  of  my  time  with  books 
for  lack  of  other  ways  of  occupying  myself,  and  I 
could  repeat  the  whole  of  Horace's  ode  to  Neobule 
which  pictures  so  well  the  little,  confining  and  stupid 
tasks  that  make  up  a  woman's  lot.  This  is  my  own 
pet  room,  you  know,  decorated  and  furnished  to  suit 
my  own  taste.  You  have  noted  often  the  pictures  I 
have  had  painted  on  the  walls  and  the  ceiling.  They 
speak  for  themselves.  They  show  you  what  I  think 
women  ought  to  do  and  be.  Why,  it  would  be  worth 
something  to  be  as  free  as  Nausicaa  and  just  go  out 
by  a  lonely  river  side  and  play  at  ball.  But  enough 
of  this!  You  made  me  show  what  I  was  trying  to 
hide.  Now  I  mean  to  know  what  is  on  your  own 
mind.  What  made  you  so  moody  last  night?  What 
makes  you  so  dull  to-day?  " 

Marcus  did  not  answer,  but  seemed  to  be  thinking 
Presently  Julia  added, 

"  I'm  glad,  at  any  rate,  that  you  don't  put  me  off 
with  a  weak,  evasive  answer,  as  most  men  would  do. 
If  you  were  to  be  changed  into  one  of  the  Gods,  it 
wouldn't  be  that  sly,  cozzening  sneak  of  a  Mercury, 
who  never  could  do  a  direct,  straight-forward  thing. 
You  are  just  thinking  whether  you  will  tell  me  or 
whether  you  won't." 

'  Yes,  I  am  thinking  whether  I  will  or  whether  I 


won't." 


56  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

"Why  do  you  hesitate?" 

"  If  I  told  you,  you  would  not  be  pleased." 

"  Why  not?" 

"  I  think  on  the  whole  I  will  tell  you  and  let  you 
find  out  for  yourself.  Yesterday  afternoon  I  was 
coming  back  late  from  the  gymnasium,  where  I  had 
lingered  so  long  that  I  had  only  just  time  to  arrive  here 
at  the  hour  Milo  had  set  for  the  banquet.  A  pretty 
flower  girl  stopped  me  as  I  was  hurrying  along  the 
Vicus  Patricius  and  asked  me  to  buy  the  last  bunch  of 
roses  that  she  had.  She  asked  me  in  an  arch,  roguish 
way  and  she  was  most  pleasing  to  look  upon.  She 
was  bare-headed  and  bare-footed,  but  she  was  neatly 
clad  in  a  fresh-looking  light  brown  tunic,  her  hair,  of 
very  much  the  same  shade,  hung  down  in  long  curls  to 
her  waist,  and  there  was  a  merry,  appealing  look  in 
her  large  brown  eyes.  Her  mouth  — " 

"  No  more  details,  if  you  please.  I  think  I  can 
picture  the  creature  perfectly.  You  kissed  her,  of 


course." 


"  No,  but  I  tried  to,  and  that  was  what  brought  on 
a  curious  experience  and  made  me  late  to  the  dinner. 
I  took  the  posies,  but  I  hadn't  an  as  about  me.  So  I 
took  her  hands  in  mine  and  said:  *  I  can't  give  you 
any  money  now,  but  I'll  give  you  a  kiss;  and  if  you 
will  find  the  house  of  Agrippa,  the  city  Prefect,  and 
inquire  for  his  son  Marcus,  you  will  be  rewarded 
handsomely.'  With  that  I  stooped  down  to  touch  my 
lips  to  hers;  but  to  my  surprise  she  wrenched  her 
hands  free  by  a  sudden  effort  and  started  away  on  the 
run.  Now  I  didn't  care  a  straw  about  the  kiss  — " 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  57 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Julia  in  an  extremely  sar 
castic  tone. 

"  Oh,  save  your  sarcasm  for  what  is  coming!  "  re 
joined  Marcus.  "  This  is  only  a  beginning.  No,  I 
didn't  really  care  about  the  kiss,  but  it  piqued  me  to 
have  a  girl  take  fright  at  me,  as  if  I  was  a  monster. 
So  I  ran  after  her  — " 

"  As  I  have  always  said,  you  are  a  man  of  action, 
Marcus." 

"  Overtook  her  with  a  dozen  steps,"  continued 
Marcus  imperturbably;  "took  her  hands  in  mine 
again,  held  them  fast  and  tried  to  reason  away  her 
timidity.  But  the  foolish  creature  had  been  so  thor 
oughly  alarmed  that  she  would  not  be  pacified.  She 
stood,  the  very  picture  of  terror,  with  the  tears  stream 
ing  down  her  cheeks.  Now,  I  am  never  willing  to  be 
defeated  in  anything  I  undertake  — " 

"  Even  though  it  be  such  a  great  and  mighty  end  as 
kissing  a  flower  girl  on  the  street,"  Julia  could  not  re 
frain  from  remarking,  with  irony  still  unveiled. 

"  And  though  I  no  longer  had  any  thought  of  ex 
acting  the  kiss,  I  was  determined  not  to  leave  her  till 
she  had  become  quiet  and  reconciled  to  me.  But  be 
fore  I  had  had  time  to  make  any  impression  upon  her, 
I  heard  a  sweet  low  voice  close  beside  me  say, 

*  This  struggle  seems  unequal.  A  very  weak  girl 
against  a  very  powerful  man.  May  I  not  take  part  in 
it?' 

"  Still  holding  the  hands  of  the  flower  girl,  I  turned 
and  saw  standing  right  at  my  side  a  girl  of  wonderful 
beauty.  She  was  tall  and  slender,  not  more  than 


58  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

twenty  years  old,  and  her  features,  her  accent  and  her 
whole  manner  told  plainly  that  she  was  of  alien  birth. 
Noting  her  frail  figure,  her  small  delicate  hands  and 
her  strangely  quiet  bearing,  I  said  with  a  touch  of  sar 
casm, 

'"You?     Pray  tell  me  how?' 

"  *  That  you  surely  do  not  need  to  ask,'  she  an 
swered  in  the  same  absolutely  calm,  unruffled  tone. 
1  Release  the  girl's  hands,  please.' 

"  I  gazed  at  her  in  wonderment.  Her  whole  de 
meanor  was  modesty  itself,  but  she  looked  me  fear 
lessly  in  the  eye  and,  low  and  sweet  as  her  voice  had 
been,  there  was  a  tone  of  authority  in  it.  Amazed  at 
myself  and  hardly  willing  to  believe  that  I  was  actually 
giving  up  my  own  will  at  the  bidding  of  a  stranger,  I 
dropped  the  hands  of  the  flower  girl  without  for  a 
moment  glancing  at  her,  but  with  my  eyes  fixed  all  the 
time  upon  the  unknown  who  had  so  daringly  interfered 
with  my  actions." 

"  No  wonder  you  were  moody  last  night,  Marcus. 
You,  the  man  of  courage  and  iron  resolution,  to  be 
ordered  about  by  a  low-bred  foreign  girl  whom  you 
had  never  seen  before.  I  didn't  know  you  could  be 
so  weak  and  childish." 

As  before,  Marcus  took  no  notice  of  the  interrup 
tion  with  its  biting  taunt,  but  went  calmly  on  with  his 
story.  ( The  flower  maiden,  on  being  released, 
darted  at  once  to  the  girl  who  had  so  effectually  pro 
tected  her  and  poured  forth  her  gratitude.  The 
stranger  smiled  sweetly  upon  her,  said  a  few  kindly 
words  to  her  and  then  started  to  go  upon  her  way. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  59 

"'Stay!'  I  cried. 

"  She  turned  about,  eyed  me  again  with  the  same 
indescribable  blending  of  modesty  and  fearlessness 
and  said  gently, 

'"What  do  you  wish?' 

"  I  did  not  at  once  reply,  I  was  so  impressed,  dazed 
I  might  fairly  say,  by  her  exceeding  beauty,  her  large, 
dark,  lustrous  eyes,  her  delicately  molded  features 
and  her  abundant  black  hair  which  made  more  striking 
the  unusual  paleness  of  her  face." 

Anger  rose  in  Julia's  heart  as  she  listened  to  this 
description  of  another  woman's  attractions,  but,  not 
without  difficulty,  she  kept  back  the  spiteful  comment 
that  came  to  her  lips.  Her  instinct  told  her  that  she 
had  already  injured  herself  in  Marcus'  estimation  by 
her  displays  of  irritated  feeling. 

"  As  I  did  not  speak  she  was  turning  away  again, 
when  I  came  to  my  senses  and  exclaimed, 

"  '  Do  not  go !  I  have  really  something  to  say.  I 
want  to  know  what  it  all  means.  I  am  not  in  the  habit 
of  submitting  like  this.  How  was  it  all  done?' 

'  It  is  very  simple,'  she  answered.     '  It  is  because 
you  have  a  good  heart.' 

"  '  How  do  you  know  that?  ' 

"  '  It  is  very  easy  to  see  it.' 

'  But  this  girl  did  not  see  it,  and  yet  I  was  speak 
ing  kindly  to  her.     I  meant  to  do  her  no  harm.' 

"  '  What  did  you  try  to  do  to  her  before  I  found 
you  together?  ' 

"  I  was  too  embarrassed  to  answer,  and  she  conT 
tinued, 


60  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

"  '  Yes,  you  have  a  good  heart,  but  you  do  not  al 
ways  let  it  rule  you.  If  you  did,  you  would  not  terrify 
innocent  young  girls  upon  the  street.' 

"  Once  more  she  turned  to  go,  but  I  called  to  her 
again  and  said, 

"  *  Who  are  you?     What  is  your  name? ' 

"  Facing  me  and  again  eyeing  me  with  that  same 
calm,  unshrinking  gaze,  she  replied, 

"  *  I  am  a  Hebrew.     My  name  I  cannot  tell  you/ 

"'Why  not?1 

"  '  My  father  would  be  grieved  indeed  if  I  told  him 
I  had  given  my  name  to  a  stranger  on  the  street.' 

"  '  May  I  not  see  you  again?  ' 

"  *  It  is  not  likely  that  we  shall  ever  meet  again. 
But  I  shall  think  sometimes  of  the  young  Roman  who 
so  readily  did  what  I  asked  of  him,  and  I  shall  think 
of  him  pleasantly.' 

"  Then  she  went  on  her  way,  and  no  entreaties  of 
mine  could  make  her  turn  again.  So  I  walked  slowly 
here,  arriving  the  last  one  at  Milo's  banquet  and  able 
to  think  of  little  but  this  strange  and  beautiful  He 
brew  girl." 

Marcus  ceased.  He  was  too  keen  and  discerning 
a  man  not  to  know  how  unwelcome  and  exasperating 
the  story  was  bound  to  be  to  his  listener.  But  it  was 
because  it  would  irritate  her  that  he  had  told  it.  He 
had,  indeed,  no  clear-cut  purpose  in  his  mind.  He 
was  simply  acting  on  the  defensive.  Inclined  to  resist 
Julia  even  while  he  admired  her,  he  was  more  than 
ever  so  inclined  since  his  meeting  with  the  fair  young 
alien.  Hence,  he  told  the  story  of  the  meeting  be- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  61 

cause  it  was  sure  to  cause  some  withdrawal  on  Julia's 
part.  The  barrier  which  her  own  maidenly  sense  did 
not  build  up  around  her,  he  adroitly  erected  by  show 
ing  her  that  he  had  rendered  to  another  woman  a 
homage  he  had  never  paid  to  herself. 

If  Julia  could  have  been  perfect  mistress  of  herself, 
the  barrier  might  have  been  removed.  Now  was  her 
time  to  win  Marcus  by  displaying  a  generous  spirit 
where  he  looked  for  pettiness.  But  she  spoiled  all  by 
her  captiousness,  and  she  was  enraged  with  herself 
because  she  could  not  help  seeing  just  how  she  failed. 

But  she  was  not  resourceless.  She  could  appeal  to 
his  Roman  pride,  even  if  her  manifested  annoyance 
rendered  it  impossible  for  her  to  make  her  own  quali 
ties  of  mind  and  her  own  personal  charm  more  potent 
to  him  than  the  spell  that  had  been  cast  upon  him  by 
the  Hebrew  stranger.  She  could  not  here  and  now 
make  her  own  attractiveness  irresistibly  alluring;  but 
she  could  make  him  feel  what  his  birth,  his  opportuni 
ties  and  his  father's  honorable  career  demanded  of 
him. 

All  this  she  could  not  reason  out  in  her  ill  concealed 
and  ungovernable  passion;  but,  with  a  blind  instinct 
as  to  the  vulnerable  point  of  attack,  she  began, 

"  So  the  son  of  the  great  house  of  Agrippa  can  be 
beguiled  and  ensnared  by  a  low-born  Hebrew  maid! 
Perhaps  she  is  a  slave.  'Tis  more  than  likely.  Mar 
cus,  whose  father  is  the  City  Prefect,  Marcus,  whom 
Tiberius  looks  graciously  upon  and  who  can  climb  to 
any  height  of  fame  and  greatness  in  the  Roman  Em 
pire,  would  throw  himself  at  the  feet  of  a  beggar  and 


62  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

forget  what  he  owes  to  his  lineage,  his  country  and  his 
Gods.  I  think  I  have  heard  that  these  Hebrews  have 
some  strange  religion  which  scorns  and  vilifies  those 
august  deities  who  have  made  Rome  great  and  glori 
ous.  Perhaps  you  will  adopt  that,  too,  and  turn  your 
back  altogether  on  the  land  that  gave  you  birth,  the 
land  that  has  nurtured  you,  the  land  that  offers  you 
wealth,  power,  renown,  and  everything  that  an  ambi 
tious  mind  can  crave.  All  these  things,  the  things 
that  make  many  a  man  lie  awake  in  the  night  and  plan 
how  he  can  get  them  —  all  these  things  are  of  no  ac 
count  because  you  have  looked  into  the  black  eyes  of 
a  girl  whom  you  would  be  ashamed  to  bring  under 
your  father's  roof,  whom  you  would  never  dare  to  take 
into  our  great  Roman  houses  where  is  to  be  found  the 
blood  that  has  mastered  the  world,  the  blood  that  has 
flowed  down  from  the  kings  and  heroes  who  founded 
our  imperial  city  so  many  hundred  years  ago.  Shame 
on  you,  Marcus !  I  did  not  think  you  could  so  far  for 
get  yourself." 

Marcus  betrayed  no  sign  of  irritation  as  this  fiery 
and  wrathful  denunciation  was  hurled  at  him.  The 
one  feeling  uppermost  in  his  mind  was  that  his  story 
had  accomplished  exactly  what  he  had  wished  it  would. 
When  Julia  had  finished,  he  said  quietly, 

"  Your  eloquence  deserves  a  better  theme,  Julia. 
Reserve  it  for  facts.  Don't  use  it  to  shake  down  air 
castles.  I  have  not  cast  myself  at  the  feet  of  any 
maid  and  I  have  not  forgotten  myself.  Good-by." 


NEVERTHELESS,  Julia's  words  made  a  deep 
impression    upon    Marcus'    mind.     He    could 
not  deny  that  there  was  force  and  logic  in  her 
pleading.     All  the  more  powerful  was  the  plea  be 
cause  it  was  not  to  his  reason  chiefly  that  it  was  di 
rected.     It  touched  his  Roman  pride,  exactly  as  Julia 
had  meant  it  should,  and  but  for  the  potent  counter 
influence  it  might  have  made  him  see  in  Julia  the  one 
woman  who  could  help  him  to  win  greatness. 

But  his  mind  was  turning  constantly  to  the  dark- 
eyed  alien  girl.  He  found  himself  wondering  who 
her  father  was  and  what  was  his  position  and  his  in 
fluence  among  the  people  of  his  own  race.  He  won 
dered  about  the  Hebrews  themselves  and  he  determined 
to  find  out  what  their  habits  and  characteristics  were. 
And  who  could  inform  him  better  than  his  own  father? 
The  Prefect  of  the  city  was  bound  to  know  of  all  that 
went  on  within  its  limits;  and  this  office  Lucius  Agrippa, 
the  father  of  Marcus,  had  held  for  several  years.  He 
had  come  to  Rome  from  Sicily  six  years  before  the 
opening  of  the  story,  had  been  made  consul  and  then 
had  been  appointed  by  Tiberius  to  be  City  Prefect, 
an  office  which  only  a  consular  could  hold. 

This  office  was  in  name  quite  an  ancient  one;  but 
with  its  present  powers  and  functions  it  had  been  cre 
ated  by  Augustus  at  the  suggestion  of  Maecenas  and 

63 


64  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

was  practically  a  permanent  position.  There  was,  in 
deed,  good  reason  why  it  should  be  permanent;  for 
the  effective  discharge  of  its  onerous  duties  called  for 
experience  as  well  as  native  ability.  Upon  the  city 
prefect  now  devolved  the  whole  responsibility  of  main 
taining  order  in  the  seething  capital,  with  its  swarming 
population,  its  excitable  and  poorly  fed  proletariat,  its 
many  aliens,  its  cut-throats  and  its  dissipated  and  de 
bauched  young  men.  But  Agrippa  was  equal  to  the 
task.  He  was  now  a  man  of  fifty,  with  a  clear  gray 
eye,  clean-shaven  face  that  showed  his  firm,  well- 
shaped  mouth,  iron  gray  hair  and  a  quiet  manner,  be 
hind  which,  however,  plainly  dwelt  a  resolute  will  and 
a  power  of  quick  decision.  He  weighed  his  words 
carefully,  spoke  tersely  and  to  the  point,  and  was  yet 
easily  approached,  free  from  arrogance,  and,  in  spite 
of  the  caution  engendered  by  long  experience  in  hand 
ling  weighty  matters,  remarkably  free  in  giving  ad 
vice  on  subjects  about  which  he  was  well  informed. 

His  relations  with  Marcus  were  cordial  and  indeed 
affectionate.  His  wife,  to  whom  he  had  been  de 
votedly  attached,  had  died  when  the  lad  was  but  ten 
years  old,  and  ever  since  he  had  given  him  all  the 
care  and  all  the  companionship  that  a  busy  man  had 
been  able  to  give.  Marcus  was  his  only  child,  and 
naturally  he  had  watched  his  growth  and  development 
with  no  little  solicitude.  But  as  the  years  passed  and 
the  boy's  character  unfolded,  his  heart  swelled  with 
pride  and  his  pleasure  and  satisfaction  were  deeper 
than  he  ever  expressed.  Marcus  was  so  frank,  so 
fearless,  so  keen-witted  and  so  self-reliant  that  his 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  65 

father  felt  sure  he  would  do  things  out  of  the  com 
mon  and  win  for  himself  a  post  of  honor  and  distinc 
tion.  But  wisely  he  gave  him,  along  with  occasional 
timely  counsel,  a  very  large  measure  of  freedom;  and 
when  the  lad's  eighteenth  birthday  came  and  he  put 
on  the  toga  virilis,  he  spoke  his  final  words  of  advice 
and  exhortation: 

"  You  are  now  a  man,"  said  he,  "  and  I  shall  leave 
it  to  you  to  come  to  me  when  you  want  counsel  or  en 
couragement.  You  know  what  it  is  to  be  a  man.  Be 
one.  You  have  the  qualities  to  make  you  one.  You 
have,  too,  the  energy,  the  vehemence  and  the  hot  blood 
of  youth.  You  may  do  wild  things,  but  never  do  low 
things.  Never  do  anything  that  would  shame  and 
sadden  your  mother  if  she  were  living.  And  what 
ever  acts  of  folly  you  may  commit,  be  sure  that  they 
harm  no  one  but  yourself.  Never  make  others  pay 
for  your  own  misdoing." 

Agrippa  was  as  good  as  his  word.  He  never  again 
offered  advice  or  suggestions  unless  Marcus  asked  him. 
But  Marcus  was  in  the  habit  of  consulting  with  him 
freely  and  he  invariably  found  him  a  very  sage  and  a 
very  kindly  counselor. 

The  house  of  Agrippa  was  on  the  Vicus  Longus 
where  that  thoroughfare  began  to  pass  between  the 
Viminal  and  the  Quirinal  Hills.  It  was  a  small  house, 
modestly,  almost  barely  furnished;  for  neither  Agrippa 
nor  Marcus  had  luxurious  tastes.  Close  to  the  en 
trance  was  a  waiting  room  into  which  the  Prefect's 
numerous  visitors  were  ushered.  Near  the  waiting 
room  was  an  apartment  devoted  to  official  uses  in  which 


66  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

Agrippa  spent  many  a  laborious  hour.  Beyond  this 
was  a  very  unpretentious  atrium,  and  opening  out  of  it 
was  the  dining  room  which  again  was  altogether  lack 
ing  in  stateliness  and  was  furnished  with  extreme  sim 
plicity.  At  a  time  when  the  Romans  were  having  the 
walls  of  their  houses  decorated  with  highly  finished 
paintings  and  their  rooms  richly  provided  with  bronzes 
and  marbles,  Agrippa  preferred  the  bareness  of  an 
earlier  and  simpler  age.  There  was  in  him  a  vein 
of  austerity.  Objects  that  appealed  alluringly  to  the 
eye  were  an  offense  to  him,  for  they  suggested  that 
luxury  which  he  feared  was  undermining  the  morals 
of  his  countrymen.  Yet  his  mind  was  cultivated  and 
his  sympathies  were  broad  and  liberal.  Of  books  he 
had  always  been  fond,  and,  busy  though  he  had  been 
ever  since  he  had  begun  active  life,  he  had  found  much 
time  for  reading  both  the  Greek  and  the  Latin  authors. 
In  one  of  the  rooms  of  his  house  was  a  well  selected 
library. 

In  the  unadorned  dining  room  of  this  modest  house 
Marcus  found  his  father  the  morning  of  the  day  that 
followed  his  disquieting  interview  with  Julia.  Agrippa 
was  eating  his  simple  breakfast  of  barley  cakes,  honey 
and  dried  fish  as  Marcus  entered,  and  he  was  at  the 
same  time  perusing  a  report  upon  a  vicious  quarter  of 
the  city  which  one  of  the  milites  stationarii,  whose  du 
ties  were  very  much  like  those  of  the  policemen  of 
to-day,  had  given  him.  But  he  laid  the  report  aside 
the  moment  that  Marcus  appeared  and  greeted  him 
heartily.  Though  not  so  invariably  punctual  at  the 
morning  repast  as  his  father  was,  Marcus  seldom 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  67 

failed  to  present  himself  before  it  was  over.  This 
was  indeed  their  one  regular  time  for  friendly  inter 
course  and  good  comradeship. 

"  Good  morning,  my  son,"  was  Agrippa's  greeting. 
"  You  are  barely  late  this  morning.  Was  the  parasite 
at  Bibulus'  dinner  so  tiresome  that  you  came  away  early 
and  had  in  consequence  a  long  night's  sleep?  Or  is 
it  that  your  host's  friends  drank  so  freely  that  they 
got  into  trouble  on  their  way  home  and  need  my  of 
fices?  The  prefect  of  the  city  is  hard  put  some  times 
to  keep  law  and  order  and  at  the  same  time  to  satisfy 
the  demands  of  friendship." 

Marcus  smiled  as  he  helped  himself  from  a  dish  of 
dried  dates.  "  Caius  and  Curio,"  he  replied,  "  were 
not  modest  in  their  potations;  but  the  truth  is,  they 
were  so  entirely  overcome  that  they  could  commit  no 
improprieties  on  their  way  home." 

The  morning  meal  was  never  hurried  unless  there 
was  a  special  reason  for  it,  as  father  and  son  both 
liked  to  make  the  most  of  this  opportunity  for  pleasant 
converse.  On  this  particular  morning  they  chatted 
upon  various  trivial  matters  in  the  same  light  vein  that 
was  shown  in  their  exchange  of  greetings,  and  then 
Marcus  turned  the  conversation  upon  the  different  alien 
peoples  in  the  city.  Though  usually  without  any  re 
serves  from  his  father,  he  was  on  this  occasion  quite 
unwilling  to  show  what  was  on  his  mind.  He  there 
fore  made  inquiries  about  Gauls,  Greeks,  Egyptians 
and  other  peoples  before  he  alluded  to  the  Hebrews, 
asking  in  regard  to  each  race  what  characteristics  it 
showed,  how  well  it  observed  the  laws  and  how  large 


68  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

a  representation  it  had  in  the  city.  When  the  discus 
sion  finally  turned  upon  the  Hebrews,  Agrippa  ad 
mitted  that  as  city  prefect  he  could  not  but  approve  of 
them. 

"  They  live,"  said  he,  "  crowded  together  in  two 
short  streets  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  Esquiline,  and 
they  are  supposed  to  number  about  two  hundred.  To 
my  subordinates  they  give  no  trouble.  They  never 
disturb  the  peace.  They  commit  no  crimes.  They 
do  no  wanton  acts.  Yet  as  a  Roman  I  have  little  that 
is  good  to  say  of  them." 

'*  We  Romans  are  not  inclined  to  speak  well  of  other 
races.  Yet  you  have,  though  it  would  seem  not  alto 
gether  willingly,  given  these  dark-skinned  foreigners 
a  good  character.  What  have  you  that  is  really  evil 
to  say  of  them?  " 

Broad  minded  though  Agrippa  was,  he  shared  in 
evitably  the  Roman  prejudice  against  foreigners,  and 
his  opinion  of  the  Jews  was  influenced  by  the  fact  that 
those  who  had  settled  in  Rome  were  for  the  most  part 
but  poor  specimens  of  their  race.  They  represented 
its  mercenary  rather  than  its  religious  instincts;  its 
greed  but  not  its  spirituality.  Horace's  oft-quoted 
and  contemptuous  phrase,  "  Let  Apella  the  Jew  believe 
it,"  well  reflected  the  estimate  that  the  better  class  of 
Romans  had  formed  of  this  indomitable  people. 
Hence,  Agrippa  answered  Marcus'  question  by  enum 
erating  vices  which  to  a  very  large  extent  he  took  for 
granted,  but  which  he  honestly  believed  to  be  a  matter 
of  common  observation. 

"I  have  much,"  he  replied,  "that  is  discreditable 


THE  SOX  OF  THE  PREFECT  69 

to  say,  if  not  positively  evil.  These  people  seem  to 
be  devoid  of  the  pride  and  self-respect  that  are  to  be 
seen  in  even  the  low-born  Romans.  They  are  sordid, 
mean-spirited  and  fawning.  They  live  for  money. 
They  seem  to  care  for  nothing  else.  The  Jew  hates 
and  despises  every  race  but  his  own.  If  he  can  cheat 
an  alien,  he  thinks  he  is  honoring  the  strange  God 
whom  he  worships  and  whom  he  calls  by  a  name  that 
sounds  like  Ja-wa.  In  manners  he  is  coarse  and  dis 
agreeable,  ready  to  cringe  when  you  meet  him  and  to 
sneer  at  you  behind  your  back.  If  you  want  money 
of  him,  he  will  be  all  pleasantness  and  lend  you  all 
you  wish  on  good  security  at  a  high  rate  of  interest; 
but  when  the  time  for  payment  comes,  he  is  as  cruel 
and  merciless  as  the  wild  beasts  that  devour  the  crimi 
nals  in  the  arena." 

Not  in  the  least  suspecting  what  was  in  Marcus' 
mind,  Agrippa  yet  thought  it  well  to  put  him  on  his 
guard  against  a  race  with  which  he  would  have  been 
loath  to  see  his  son  have  dealings.  Marcus,  however, 
could  not  help  feeling  that  the  picture  was  strongly, 
perhaps  unfairly,  colored;  and  he  answered  deprecat- 
ingly, 

'  You  say  the  Jews  are  mean-spirited  and  even  the 
low-born  Romans  self-respecting.  But  surely  no  per 
sons  could  be  less  self-respecting  and  more  thoroughly 
despicable  than  the  parasites  in  our  own  city  who  eat 
the  bread  of  the  rich  and  then  hold  them  up  to  ridi 
cule." 

"  That  is  justly  said.  This  age  of  wanton  living 
has  produced  a  vile  rabble  which  did  not  exist,  I  am 


70  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

sure,  in  those  self-denying  days  when  Rome  was  war 
ring  with  the  Samnites." 

"  But  it  exists  now,  and  it  would  be  unfair  to  judge 
the  Roman  character  by  it.  Is  it  not  equally  unfair 
to  judge  the  Jews  by  the  sorry  specimens  of  their  race 
we  see  here  in  the  city?  " 

"  That  I  hardly  think,  for  wherever  I  have  lived  I 
have  found  that  these  qualities  I  have  named  have 
been  ascribed  to  this  singular  people.  At  the  same 
time  I  do  not  really  mean  to  condemn  the  whole  na 
tion.  Indeed,  I  did  once  meet  a  generous  and  hon 
orable  Jew,  and  he  did  me  a  great  service." 

"  When  and  how  was  that?" 

"  It  was  at  Smyrna  nearly  thirty  years  ago.  It  was 
a  curious  and  a  very  interesting  experience.  I  do  not 
know  why  I  have  never  been  moved  to  tell  you  about 
it.  I  had  then  the  rank  of  centurion  and  I  was  one  of 
the  immediate  attendants  of  the  praetor,  Manius 
Paulus,  who  was  governor  of  the  city.  One  day  I  was 
strolling  about  the  streets  of  Smyrna  with  a  brother 
officer  who  had  taken  enough  wine  to  make  him  quar 
relsome.  We  met  a  young  Syrian  who  did  not  readily 
make  way  for  us  in  a  very  narrow  street.  My  com 
panion  demanded  an  apology.  The  fellow  was  un 
usually  stubborn  and  spirited  for  one  of  his  race  and 
refused  to  give  it.  In  an  instant,  before  I  could  divine 
my  comrade's  purpose  or  interfere,  he  drew  his  sword 
and  thrust  the  poor  fellow  through.  Then,  thoroughly 
frightened,  he  ran  away.  I  bent  over  the  fallen  man  and 
tried  to  save  him.  It  was  all  in  vain.  The  sword  had 
passed  through  his  lungs  and  his  end  was  near.  Just 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  71 

as  he  passed  away,  two  other  Roman  officers  appeared. 
Everything  looked  as  if  I  had  done  the  murder,  and 
when  questioned  I  declined  to  speak;  for  I  expected 
the  investigation  to  clear  the  matter  up,  never  doubt 
ing  that  the  guilty  man  would  then  come  forward  and 
confess  what  he  had  done.  But  before  the  investiga 
tion  took  place,  he  came  to  me  privately,  said  with 
tears  in  his  eyes  that  his  career  as  a  soldier  would  be 
ruined  if  the  truth  were  known,  and  implored  me  to 
let  the  deed  pass  as  mine.  My  good  record,  he 
claimed,  would  ensure  me  a  light  sentence.  His  poor 
record  —  his  fondness  for  the  cup  being  well  known  — 
would  bring  him  the  severest  possible  penalty.  Fur 
thermore,  he  promised  that  if  I  would  do  this  for  him 
he  would  never  taste  wine  again. 

*  Very  rashly  and  very  foolishly  I  consented.  I  say 
very  rashly  and  foolishly,  because  it  is  always  a  mis 
take  to  cover  up  the  wrong  a  man  has  done  instead  of 
letting  him  face  the  consequences  of  his  actions.  You 
do  not  help  to  make  a  man  of  him  by  shielding  him 
from  punishment  and  from  public  disgrace.  But  I 
was  young  then  and  had  the  false  notions  about  honor 
and  loyalty  to  a  comrade  which  young  men  so  com 
monly  have.  So  I  did  what  he  asked,  but  matters  did 
not  go  as  we  hoped  and  expected  they  would.  I  re 
ceived  a  very  severe  sentence,  for  the  father  of  the 
murdered  youth  clamored  for  vengeance,  and  Paulus, 
the  praetor,  was  a  stern  disciplinarian,  bent  upon  keep 
ing  his  soldiers  and  officers  in  check  and  preventing 
disorder  and  bloodshed  in  the  city.  I  was  condemned 
to  a  year's  imprisonment  and  degradation  to  the  rank 


72  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

of  common  soldier. 

"  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  submit,  for  I  had 
given  my  word.  So  to  prison  I  went,  much  broken  in 
spirit.  But  the  very  day  after  I  was  committed  I  was 
visited  by  a  Hebrew  merchant  of  the  city,  a  middle- 
aged,  tall,  full-bearded  man,  with  a  stately  carriage 
and  an  aspect  of  distinction.  He  asked  me  why  I  had 
allowed  myself  to  be  thus  severely  treated  and  almost 
hopelessly  disgraced,  when  I  was  innocent? 

(  How  do  you  know  I  am  innocent?  '  I  inquired. 

"  *  I  happened  to  see  the  whole  occurrence  from  a 
window  near  by.*  ' 

"  '  Then  why  did  you  not  come  forward  and  tes 
tify  ?' 

*  I  had  no  right  to  do  so,  for  I  saw  you  must  have 
some  reason  for  taking  the  blame  upon  yourself. 
What  is  your  reason?' 

"  '  I  can  not  tell  you.' 

'  I  insist  on  knowing.  I  am  much  older  than  you. 
I  have  a  mature  judgment.  I  can  not  thus  see  a  brave 
and  honorable  man  suffer  for  the  misdeed  of  another 
when  he  may  be  acting  wrongly  and  unwisely.' 

"  '  But  if  I  told  you  the  whole  truth,  I  should  be 
violating  a  confidence.' 

"  '  No  matter  if  you  do.  I  promise  not  to  reveal 
what  you  tell  me  without  your  permission.  But  if  you 
refuse  to  tell  me,  I  shall  go  directly  to  the  praetor, 
give  him  my  evidence,  and  then  the  real  facts  will  have 
to  come  out.' 

"  I  saw  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  make  him  ac 
quainted  with  the  whole  story,  and  I  told  it  to  him. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  73 

After  thinking  for  a  short  time  he  said, 

"  '  For  your  own  sake  first  of  all,  but  also  for  the 
sake  of  the  man  for  whom  you  are  making  this  sacri 
fice,  things  must  not  be  left  as  they  are.  You  ought 
not  to  suffer  severely  for  a  deed  you  did  not  do ;  your 
brother  officer  ought  not  to  be  helped  in  a  way  that 
will  make  him  selfish.  Leave  it  all  to  me !  I  will  tell 
the  story  to  the  praetor,  first  exacting  secrecy  from  him, 
and  we  will  find  a  way  of  restoring  you  to  liberty 
without  exposing  the  guilty  man.' 

"  '  But  the  father  of  the  murdered  youth?'  I  ex 
claimed.  '  How  is  his  demand  for  justice  to  be  met 
and  satisfied?  He  is  angry  and  bitter,  and  very  justly 


so.' 


*  Leave  that  also  to  me !     I  know  how  to  appease 
him,'  he  said,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"  l  Yes,  and  I  know  how  you  will  do  it,'  I  cried. 
(  You  will  give  him  money,  and  that  I  can  not  allow.' 

*  It  is  not  your  affair.     I  am  rich  and  I  have  a 
right  to  spend  my  substance  as  I  please.     Now,  with 
your  permission,  I  will  go  directly  to  the  praetor.' 

"  Somewhat  unwillingly  I  gave  permission,  for  he 
had  an  air  of  authority  which,  youth  that  I  was,  I  could 
not  resist.  But  I  insisted  at  the  same  time  that  he  had 
no  right  to  make  me  his  debtor  by  paying  out  money  in 
my  behalf.  He  made  no  answer  to  my  demands,  left 
me,  and  before  the  day  was  over  I  was  released  and 
restored  to  my  office.  This  much  the  praetor  had 
been  more  than  ready  to  do  when  he  learned  the  facts, 
but  my  Hebrew  friend  had  found  it  very  difficult  to 
keep  him  from  arresting  and  punishing  the  real  of- 


74  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

fender.  The  culprit  was  indeed  summoned  to  the 
praetor's  presence,  informed  that  his  guilt  was  known, 
though  not  through  me,  and  sternly  warned  that  any 
future  misbehavior,  even  though  slight  in  character, 
would  be  punished  with  the  utmost  severity.  No  pen 
alty,  however,  was  visited  upon  him;  and,  to  cover  up 
my  own  sudden  release  and  restoration  to  favor,  it 
was  given  out  that  a  witness  had  unexpectedly  appeared 
who  proved  conclusively  that  my  action  was  done  in 
self-defense.  This  patched  the  whole  matter  up  very 
poorly  and  by  no  means  satisfied  the  curious;  but  it 
seemed  the  best  way  out  of  a  difficult  situation. 

"  As  soon  as  I  could  I  sought  out  my  benefactor, 
who  was  one  of  the  leading  merchants  of  Smyrna  and 
whom  I  found  without  trouble.  I  thanked  him  with 
all  my  heart  for  what  he  had  done  for  me,  and  then 
demanded  to  know  how  much  he  had  paid  to  the  father 
of  the  murdered  man  and  said  I  should  consider  it  a 
debt  of  honor  till  it  was  paid.  He  laughed  me  to 
scorn,  refused  absolutely  to  tell  me  the  amount,  and 
declared  he  had  as  much  right  to  help  a  man  whom 
he  admired  and  honored  as  I  had  to  shield  a  man  who 
was  guilty.  He  was  so  wholly  uncompromising  about 
it  that  I  was  obliged  to  yield;  and  to  this  day  I  do  not 
know  whether  the  wretched  affair  cost  him  much  or 
little.  I  saw  him  only  two  or  three  times  afterward, 
for  I  was  soon  ordered  away  from  Smyrna/' 

Both  sat  in  silence  for  a  while  when  the  story  was 
ended.  Finally,  Marcus  said, 

"  If  there  could  be  one  Jew  like  that,  why  may  there 
not  be  many?  " 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  75 

"  Possibly  there  are,  but  not  here  in  Rome.  The 
Hebrews  here  are  as  I  have  described  them.  Through 
my  official  position  many  accounts  of  them,  as  of  all 
other  races  and  peoples,  come  to  me.  They  are  a  low 
and  degraded  lot.  Romans  can  but  shun  them  and  let 
them  alone.  And  from  their  own  country  of  Judaea 
are  brought  the  tidings  that  Pontius  Pilate  is  finding 
them  a  disagreeable,  willful  and  rebellious  people." 

"  But  you  say  they  are  tame-spirited.  How  is  it 
then  that  they  have  the  courage  to  be  rebellious?  " 

Agrippa  looked  at  his  son  inquiringly.  Marcus'  in 
terest  in  this  alien  people  and  his  inclination  to  defend 
them  had  begun  to  seem  to  him  a  little  singular. 

"Have  you  met  any  of  this  race?"  he  asked. 
"  Are  there  any  among  them  that  you  wish  to  be  in 
formed  about?  You  seem  bent  on  getting  all  the 
knowledge  of  them  you  can;  also  on  taking  as  favor 
able  a  view  of  them  as  possible." 

u  I  like  to  see  the  good  in  all  people,"  replied  Mar 
cus,  "  and  I  think  our  own  race  is  too  apt  to  scorn  and 
despise  all  who  have  not  Roman  blood  in  their  veins. 
Think  how  slow  we  were  in  granting  citizenship  to 
the  other  races  of  Italy,  who  surely  were  nearly  akin 
to  us.  But  I  shall  not  want  you  to  have  inquiries  made 
about  any  Hebrews  in  particular.  Tell  me  all  you  can 
about  them  in  general  and  I  shall  be  satisfied." 

This  answer  was  truthful,  even  though  evasive,  and 
Agrippa  went  on  without  suspecting  Marcus'  inner 
thought. 

'  The  Hebrews  are  tame-spirited,"  he  answered, 
"  when  the  power  and  greatness  of  Rome  over-awes 


76  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

them.  In  their  own  land,  where  they  see  a  small  num 
ber  of  soldiers  supporting  our  authority  against  their 
own  almost  innumerable  thousands,  they  seem  to  for 
get  that  the  whole  might  of  Rome  is  behind  that  little 
band  of  soldiers  and  to  grow  wanton  and  insolent.'* 

The  conversation  ended  without  convincing  Marcus 
that  all  the  Jews  in  Rome  were  vulgar  and  sordid  be 
cause  the  majority  of  them  evidently  were  so.  That 
the  girl  he  had  met  had  been  delicately  nurtured  in  a 
home  of  thorough  refinement,  he  could  not  doubt. 
Perhaps  she  had  friends  and  kindred  in  Rome  who 
were  as  free  from  coarseness  as  herself.  Not  easily 
governed  by  prejudice,  Marcus  did  not  feel  that  aver 
sion  to  this  alien  people  which  seemed  to  be  shared 
by  his  father  and  by  all  Romans  of  rank  and  social 
position.  But  he  was  governed  by  that  indomitable 
pride  which  had  helped  to  make  the  Romans  the  con 
querors  of  the  world.  He  realized  fully  what  was  due 
to  his  father's  exalted  rank  and  station;  and  he  re 
solved  to  keep  away  from  the  Jewish  quarter  however 
much  it  might  cost  him  to  do  so. 

It  cost  him  a  good  deal.  His  heart  had  not  been 
touched  by  the  lovely  Hebrew.  That  was  scarcely 
possible,  for  their  interview  had  been  all  too  brief  to 
kindle  deep  emotion.  So  what  he  was  cherishing  was 
hardly  more  than  a  vision.  But  it  was  a  vision  of 
such  rare  beauty  that  it  did  not  fade  from  his  mind. 


VI 

IF  Agrippa  had  carefully  inspected  the  quarters  of 
the  Hebrews  in  Rome  instead  of  relying  upon  the 
opinions  of  his  subordinates,  he  would  have  found 
that  they  were  not  all  as  he  had  painted  them  to  Mar 
cus.  Eliud  Merari,  by  far  the  wealthiest  of  them  and 
profoundly  respected  by  them  all,  was  neither  sordid 
nor  mercenary.  He  was  a  man  of  powerful  intellect, 
unspotted  integrity  and  large  benevolence.  But  there 
was  nothing  about  his  unostentatious  life  to  bring  him 
to  the  notice  of  those  who  governed  and  disciplined 
the  Roman  capital. 

His  house  was  in  the  heart  of  the  Hebrew  colony. 
Beyond  the  fact  that  it  had  a  broader  frontage  than 
the  surrounding  dwellings,  it  was  in  no  way  conspicu 
ous  or  imposing;  but  within,  it  showed  on  every  hand 
the  signs  of  a  cultivated  taste  which  never  stopped  at 
expense  in  order  to  secure  comfort  and  elegance. 
Everywhere  there  was  indeed  a  suggestion  of  the  splen 
dor  and  magnificence  of  the  Orient  and  yet  withal  a 
harmony  of  coloring  and  an  evidence  of  restraint  which 
prevented  garish  and  bizarre  effects.  The  furniture 
was  of  bronze,  onyx,  or  richly  carved  eastern  woods 
inlaid  with  gold  and  silver,  but  there  was  not  too  much 
of  it.  The  rugs  and  hangings  were  pleasing  to  the 
eye,  their  hues  being  rich  and  soft  but  never  brilliant. 
There  were  in  every  room  enough  inviting  cushions 

77 


78  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

to  provide  for  comfort,  but  not  enough  to  suggest  the 
luxury  of  the  sybarite.  The  coloring  on  the  walls  and 
ceilings  was  so  quiet  as  to  give  a  sense  of  repose.  And 
the  polished  silver  mirrors  were  placed  for  conven 
ience  and  not  for  showr.  Of  statues  in  bronze  or  mar 
ble  not  a  sign  was  to  be  seen;  for  such  things  savored 
of  idolatry  to  the  reverent  worshiper  of  the  dread  Je 
hovah. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  Marcus  reached 
the  age  of  twenty-one  and  at  the  very  time  when  Milo 
and  the  other  guests  were  awaiting  his  arrival  at  the 
belated  banquet,  a  girl  who  could  hardly  yet  have 
reached  her  twenty-first  year  was  seated  on  a  cushion 
in  one  of  the  retired  apartments  of  Merari's  house. 
It  was  indeed  her  own  living  room  and  was  connected 
by  a  curtained  entrance  with  her  sleeping  room  ad 
joining.  The  living  room  was  about  fifteen  feet  square 
and  gave  evidence  of  a  refined  taste.  The  heavy  ef 
fects  given  by  the  extensively  used  Pompeian  reds  and 
yellows  were  wanting  here.  The  walls  and  the  ceil 
ing  had  been  colored  with  a  soft  creamy  tint.  The 
rugs  and  the  hangings  were  pale  blue.  The  cushions 
were  of  the  same  hue  and  were  embroidered  with  sil 
ver.  The  furniture,  which  consisted  of  a  low  divan, 
a  table  and  several  chairs  of  different  shapes  and  pat 
terns  all  artistically  designed,  was  of  box-wood  in 
laid  with  silver.  On  one  of  the  walls  a  panel  had 
been  painted  blue  and  in  the  center  of  it  an  octagonal 
silver  mirror  had  been  hung.  Writing  utensils,  all 
of  silver,  were  to  be  seen  upon  the  box-wood  table. 

Yet  no  one  who  looked  closely  at  the  occupant  of 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  79 

the  room  would  have  said  that  its  pale  subdued  tones 
had  been  chosen  by  her  to  enhance  her  wonderful 
beauty.  The  pallor  of  her  face  seemed  to  be  height 
ened  by  her  dark  eyes  and  her  abundant,  loosely  flow 
ing  black  hair;  and  a  richer  and  warmer  coloring  for  the 
room  would  perhaps  have  afforded  a  more  effective 
setting  for  features  that  quite  lacked  the  ruddy  tints 
of  youth.  Hardly  was  it  vanity  that  had  adopted 
such  a  quiet  scheme  of  decoration.  But  the  beauty 
was  so  rare  that  it  needed  no  setting.  The  features 
were  regular  and  exquisitely  modeled;  and  though  they 
indicated  the  nationality,  they  were  of  the  Greek  rather 
than  of  the  pronounced  Hebrew  type.  The  mouth 
was  small,  with  finely  cut  lips,  and  showed,  when  open, 
regular  white  teeth.  The  forehead  was  broad  and 
low.  The  eye  was  of  such  brilliancy  that  it  was  sure 
to  attract  and  hold  the  attention  before  the  beautiful 
contour  of  the  face  and  its  mingled  spirituality  and 
intellectual  force  had  made  their  due  impression. 

Somewhat  in  oriental  fashion,  the  girl  had  seated 
herself,  with  her  feet  crossed,  upon  a  cushion  on  the 
floor.  In  her  hand  was  a  harp,  and  to  the  music 
which  she  drew  from  its  strings  she  sang,  "  I  will  lift 
my  eyes  to  the  mountains  from  which  comes  my  help," 
and  the  other  sublime  verses  of  the  one  hundred  and 
twenty-first  Psalm. 

When  she  had  finished  she  placed  the  harp  gently 
upon  the  floor  and  sat  with  folded  hands,  while  a  wist 
ful  look  came  over  her  face. 

"  Shall  I  never  see  thy  hills  again,  dear  land  of  my 
birth?"  she  said  musingly.  "  Ah,  well  can  I  under- 


80  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

stand  how  my  people  felt  during  those  long  years  of 
captivity  when  they  looked  every  day  toward  Jerusalem 
and  wept  because  they  could  not  see  her  pinnacles  and 
the  mountains  round  about  her.  Well  might  they  say, 
'  How  shall  we  sing  the  song  of  Jehovah  in  a  strange 
land?'  And  yet  how  could  they  help  singing  the 
Lord's  song?  How  could  they  help  singing  about  the 
great  Jehovah  who  delivered  them  out  of  Egypt,  fed, 
them  in  the  wilderness,  destroyed  their  enemies,  and 
did  such  deeds  for  them  as  have  been  done  for  no  other 
people  on  the  earth? 

'  He  has  not  so  dealt  with  any  nation.'  Oh,  how 
true  that  is !  And  surely  all  those  wonderful  promises 
are  true  which  tell  us  that  great  and  glorious  days  are 
to  come  again  and  Jehovah's  chosen  people  are  to  be, 
more  flourishing  and  prosperous  and  powerful  than 
ever.  Oh,  how  I  long  to  see  Jerusalem  again!  It 
may  be  those  great  days  are  coming  now,  and  to  miss 
seeing  them  would  be  hard  indeed. 

"  Five  years  it  is  since  I  have  been  in  Jerusalem; 
five  years  since  I  have  seen  the  home  of  my  childhood, 
right  in  the  shadow  of  its  walls,  where  I  used  to  play 
among  the  olives  and  pick  the  sweet-scented  roses  and 
listen  to  the  song  of  the  birds.  And  here  I  can  do  and 
see  so  little !  I  should  be  happier  if  I  could  go  about 
and  see  something  of  this  great  city  and  these  proud 
Romans  who  are  conquering  all  the  world  —  so  grand 
father  tells  me  at  any  rate.  But  there  he  is  now.  Oh, 
how  glad  I  am  to  see  him  again!  " 

At  the  entrance  leading  into  the  atrium  of  the  house 
a  knock  consisting  of  two  low  distinct  taps  thrice  re- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  81 

peated  was  heard,  and  hardly  had  the  glad  "  Come  in, 
grandfather!  "  been  uttered  before  the  hanging  was 
thrust  aside  and  a  venerable  and  stately  man  entered 
the  room.  His  long  flowing  white  beard  betokened 
advanced  age,  but  his  erect  carriage,  his  alert  mien, 
his  vigorous  step  and  his  keen  dark  eye  showed  that 
years  had  not  quenched  the  fire  and  the  energy  of 
youth.  Plainly  he  had  passed  the  allotted  three  score 
years  and  ten;  but  plainly  too  a  large  and  ripened  un 
derstanding,  a  disciplined  will  and  an  undeviating  re 
spect  for  the  moral  law  had  protected  him  from  the 
weaknesses  and  the  encroachments  of  senility. 

"  I  am  rejoiced  to  see  you,  grandfather,"  cried  the 
girl,  as  she  ran  forward  to  meet  him,  her  every  fea 
ture  beaming  with  happiness.  "  But  how  late  you  are  I 
Have  you  only  just  returned  from  that  dreary  place 
where  you  bargain  all  day  long?  " 

"  Only  just  returned,  Naarah,"  said  the  old  man, 
kissing  her  tenderly  on  the  forehead.  "  Azareel  the 
Syrian  wished  me  to  double  the  loan  I  had  made  him 
on  the  cargo  he  is  bringing  from  Ephesus,  and  it  took 
him  some  time  to  provide  the  securities  I  demanded." 

"How  shrewdly  you  bargain,  grandfather!  I  be 
lieve  you  were  never  caught  in  a  foolish  transaction  in 
your  life." 

"  Nor  in  a  dishonest  one,  my  daughter,  which  is  the 
only  thing  an  old  man  like  me  should  be  proud  of. 
The  wisest  of  us  err  sometimes  in  judgment;  no  one 
needs  to  do  a  wicked  or  a  lying  deed.  But  tell  me  of 
your  day,  my  dearest  one.  Quiet  and  uneventful  as 
all  your  days  are,  I  suppose.  Sometimes  I  think  they 


82  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

are  a  little  too  quiet  for  your  well-being  and  happi 


ness." 


"  Not  quiet  for  once,  grandfather.  This  has  been  a 
day  for  me  to  remember.  I  have  had  an  adventure." 

"  An  adventure?  How  strange!  It  must  have 
happened  outside,  for  no  one  could  intrude  into  this 
well-guarded  house  to  cause  trouble  and  excitement. 
So  you  went  upon  the  street,  then?  I  trust  you  did 
not  go  far.  Our  Hebrew  maidens  have  always  been 
taught  that  seclusion  is  a  woman's  best  protection;  and 
alas !  many  evil  things  happen  in  the  streets  of  this 
great  city." 

"  No,  my  dear  kind  protector ;  not  very  far.  I  could 
never  forget  the  many  warnings  you  have  given  me. 
I  went  with  Deborah  to  the  house  of  our  cousin, 
Kemuel,  whose  little  daughter  Naomi  has  been  sick 
for  ten  days,  as  you  know,  with  intermittent  fever.  I 
found  her  more  comfortable,  but  craving  sleep;  and  I 
knew  I  could  get  an  herb  that  makes  a  soothing  draft 
at  the  shop  of  Mattathiah  who  lives  a  short  distance 
away  from  our  Hebrew  quarter.  He  has  found  cus 
tom  among  the  Romans  and  so  he  has  planted  himself 
among  them,  though  not  so  far  away  as  to  lose  the 
trade  of  our  own  people.  I  got  the  herb  I  wanted 
and  was  returning  with  it  when  I  came  upon  a  young 
and  pretty  flower  girl  struggling  in  the  grasp  of  a  tall 
and  powerful  Roman." 

"  A  youth,  I  suppose,"  commented  the  old  man,  who 
was  listening  intently.  "  It  is  usually  the  hot  blood 
of  youth  that  prompts  to  such  folly." 

4  Yes,  a  very  young  man  and  a  man  of  high  station, 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  83 

too.     He  was  the  son  of  Agrippa,  the  city  Prefect" 

"  How  did  you  discover  that?  You  surely  did  not 
accost  him  or  ask  his  name?  " 

"  He  had  told  the  flower  girl  who  he  was  and  she 
afterward  told  me." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  know  it.  His  father  is  a  good  and 
honorable  man.  But  the  youth  must  have  good  blood 
in  him  and  perhaps  he  will  turn  out  well  in  the  end." 

"  I  am  sure  he  will.     Indeed,  I  told  him  so." 

"  You  told  him  so?  You  astonish  me,  my  daughter. 
Tell  me  all  that  passed  between  you." 

Naarah  told  the  whole  story.  The  old  man  listened 
with  no  other  expression  than  that  of  deep  and  ab 
sorbed  interest.  When  she  had  finished,  he  said 
quietly, 

"  You  did  well,  my  daughter.  You  were  not  pru 
dent;  yet  you  did  well.  I  believe  that  God  still  gives 
wisdom  to  the  pure  in  heart,  even  as  He  called  to  the 
child  Samuel  of  old.  Yet  he  might  have  been  an  evil 
man  and  laid  violent  hands  upon  you.  You  see  that 
it  is  unwise  for  you  to  wander  far  from  our  own  quiet 
streets." 

'  Yes,  I  realize  it.  I  know  how  careful  I  need  to 
be.  And  yet  I  can  not  help  sighing  because  I  have  no 
freedom.  Why  is  the  world  so  wicked?  Why  must 
I  keep  within  such  narrow  bounds  when  I  long  to  roam 
where  I  will,  just  as  the  caged  bird  longs  to  use  its 
wings?  Oh,  shall  we  never  go  back  to  our  own  dear 
land?  Shall  we  never  again  kneel  down  in  the  temple 
at  Jerusalem  and  worship  the  God  who  was  so  good 
to  our  people?  Shall  we  never  again  see  the  hills 


84  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

where  He  did  his  mighty  acts  and  made  us  know  that 
we  are  all  as  the  dust  before  Him?  " 

"  In  good  time,  Naarah.  In  good  time.  I  am 
planning  even  now  to  complete  my  transactions  here 
and  go  back  with  you  to  the  home  where  you  were  so 
happy  as  a  child.  Ah,  how  glad  I  should  be,  and 
how  glad  you  would  be,  my  dearest  Naarah,  if  we 
could  find  there  my  good  son  and  your  lovely  mother ! 
But  I  am  glad  they  lived  long  enough  for  you  to  know 
and  remember  them  well." 

"  Yes,  my  memory  of  them  is  clear  and  very  pre 
cious.  I  was  ten,  you  know,  when  my  father  died  and 
twelve  when  my  mother  passed  away.  Father  looked 
like  you,  grandfather,  though  he  was  not  so  tall  and 
did  not  bear  himself  in  such  a  stately  way." 

"  He  was  a  good  son  and  a  good  man.  So  you, 
Naarah,  are  all  I  have;  for  my  daughter  died  when 
she  was  very  young  and  I  had  no  other  son.  You 
know  that  I  am  living  for  you  and  all  that  I  have  will 
be  yours." 

"  But  you  have  more  than  enough  already.  Why 
spend  more  time  in  this  alien  city,  among  people  who 
bow  down  to  graven  images  and  break  the  command 
ments  which  the  mighty  Jehovah  has  given?  " 

'  They  sin  in  ignorance,  dear  Naarah.  Let  us  not 
censure  them.  We  will  soon  break  away,  just  as  soon 
as  the  ventures  to  which  I  am  committed  will  allow. 
I  fear  however  that  it  may  take  a  year  to  bring  them 
to  success." 

"  A  year?  A  whole  year?  That  seems  a  very  long 
time.  Let  me  see  this  great  and  splendid  city  then 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  85 

meanwhile.  No,  grandfather,  I  could  never  be  actu 
ally  unhappy  while  sharing  a  home  with  you;  but  you 
do  not  quite  realize  that  this  life  I  lead  is  a  dull  and 
narrowing  one  for  a  young  girl." 

"  Is  not  Deborah  a  kind  and  unselfish  companion?  " 

"Kind  and  unselfish,  yes!  But  oh,  so  tame,  so 
quiet,  so  wholly  unable  to  understand  and  appreciate 
the  things  I  love !  She  cares  nothing  for  my  harp. 
If  I  read  to  her  one  of  the  wonderful  stories  of  our 
Scriptures  —  how  Abraham  was  prevented  from  sac 
rificing  Isaac  or  how  Joseph  recognized  his  brethren 
in  Egypt  —  she  goes  fast  asleep !  Why,  grand 
father,  just  when  I  get  to  the  most  thrilling  part,  I 
hear  her  snoring!  " 

Eliud  smiled  faintly  at  this  picture  which  was  given 
with  a  spirited  young  girl's  liveliness;  but  he  was  too 
much  troubled  to  be  really  amused. 

"  I  can  see,  my  child,"  he  said  gravely,  "  that  Deb 
orah  is  not  the  person  to  share  your  interests  and 
feelings.  But  I  have  always  thought  of  you  as  happy 
in  studying  the  wonderful  history  of  our  own  nation 
and  the  rich  and  beautiful  literatures  of  the  Greeks 
and  Romans.  In  their  writings  there  is  so  much  that 
is  noble;  in  this  luxurious  city  there  is  so  much  that  is 
evil,  so  much  that  I  should  grieve  to  have  you  see  and 
that  you  would  shrink  from  seeing.  Surely  you  do 
not  want  to  see  their  street  processions,  their  theaters 
and  their  public  games?  " 

'Why  not,  dear  grandfather?  Why  should  I  not 
see  all  the  great  and  splendid  sights  which  the  Romans 
love?  Some  of  their  plays,  such  as  the  Rudens  and 


86  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

the  Captivi  of  Plautus,  have  nothing  of  evil  in  them. 
And  there  are  games  and  chariot  races  that  are  not 
bloody.  Some  of  these  things  I  might  look  upon  with 
out  seeing  anything  that  would  shock  or  hurt  me;  and 
I  do  so  long  to  see  something  of  this  great,  full,  stir 
ring  life  that  is  going  on  all  around  me!  " 

"  You  argue  your  case  well,  Naarah.  I  admit  there 
is  truth  in  what  you  say.  Perhaps  I  will  take  you  to 
a  play,  if  one  that  is  clean  is  ever  presented,  or  to  the 
Circus  to  see  the  contests  of  the  athletes.  I  will  watch 
and  take  note,  for  I  want  you  to  be  contented.  I  fear 
my  affection  for  you  has  been  a  selfish  one.  Since 
your  father  and  mother  died,  my  one  ambition  has 
been  to  make  you  happy.  But,  ah,  me  1  I  forget 
that  I  am  an  old  man  and  but  poor  company  for  a 
young,  joyous,  spirited  girl.  I  am  dwelling  among 
the  evening  shadows  while  you  want  the  fragrant  air 
and  sunshine  of  the  morning.  Forgive  me,  Naarah! 
I  will  try  to  bring  more  brightness  and  freshness  into 
your  life." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  forgive,  dearest  grandfather. 
No  girl  ever  had  a  better,  kinder,  truer  friend  than  I 
have  in  you.  Forget  what  I  said.  I  was  thoughtless. 
I  would  rather  sit  with  you  in  the  evening  shadows 
than  see  the  fairest  morning  that  ever  gladdened  the 
earth." 


VII 

CETHEGUS  was  ready  to  advise  Calvius  to  dis 
miss  all  thoughts  of  winning  Julia.  None  the 
less,  he  cherished  this  ambition  for  himself. 
That  she  cared  for  Marcus,  he  was  sure.  Still,  he 
had  hopes.  His  keen  eye  had  seen  no  signs  that 
Marcus  reciprocated  the  affection.  He  believed  in 
himself.  Something  might  happen  in  his  favor. 
True,  a  woman  of  Julia's  ardent  nature  would  never 
bestow  on  any  other  man  the  intense  regard  she  had 
given  to  Marcus.  But  he  was  not  ardent  himself  and 
he  was  very  ambitious.  He  was  cautiously  planning 
and  working  to  obtain  a  high  office  in  the  city.  If  he 
could  secure  it,  Julia,  with  her  cleverness  and  beauty, 
would  help  him  to  win  power  and  influence  in  dis 
charging  its  duties.  And  the  authority  and  state  so 
gained  would  go  far  toward  making  her  satisfied  and 
happy.  Of  this  he  felt  quite  sure ;  for,  as  he  had  rep 
resented  to  Calvius,  he  knew  that  she  too  was  exceed 
ingly  ambitious.  And,  without  using  fine  moral  dis 
cernment,  he  yet  felt  instinctively  and  with  much  jus 
tification  that  he  could  gratify  this  ambitious  mood 
better  than  Marcus.  Marcus  would  win  and  use 
power  quite  unselfishly.  Julia  craved  it  for  personal 
even  more  than  for  patriotic  ends.  So  Cethegus  never 
allowed  hope  to  die  out  in  his  heart  and  visited  Julia 
from  time  to  time. 

87 


88  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

She  always  received  him  with  friendliness.  He  in 
terested  her.  She  admired  his  cleverness.  Her 
woman's  intuition  told  her  that  he  had  a  deeper  regard 
for  her  than  he  was  as  yet  ready  to  show.  She 
thought  it  possible  that  she  might  some  time  make  him 
useful.  She  was  not  displeased,  therefore,  when  he 
came  to  see  her  the  very  day  after  she  had  passed 
such  a  strenuous  hour  with  Marcus.  She  felt  that 
after  such  an  exciting  encounter  she  could  positively 
enjoy  the  comments  of  a  keen  dispassionate  mind  like 
that  of  Cethegus.  He  was  sure  to  be  entertaining. 
She  wrould  encourage  him  to  run  on  as  he  pleased,  ask 
ing  such  questions  herself  as  occasion  might  prompt. 
She  was  sure  that  in  this  way  she  could  get  at  things 
worth  knowing.  So  she  received  Cethegus  in  her  own 
parlor,  greeted  him  pleasantly,  though  without 
warmth,  and  seated  herself  in  the  mood  of  one  desiring 
to  be  amused.  To  listen  now  to  Cethegus'  droll  and 
easy  speech  would  be  like  sitting  by  a  babbling  brook 
after  watching  the  breakers  in  a  storm. 

"  What  have  you  to  tell  me,  Cethegus?"  she  be 
gan.  "  I  have  not  heard  anything  interesting  for 
days  and  I  want  to  be  amused." 

"  Rare  news.  A  great  storm  is  brewing.  The 
men  of  the  city  are  about  to  revolt  because  the  women 
have  too  much  liberty." 

u  How  unspeakably  stupid  of  them!  They  pattern 
after  the  very  ones  we  wish  to  put  down.  That  is 
just  what  the  women  of  Athens  did  four  hundred  years 
ago,  unless  the  picture  Aristophanes  gives  us  was 
drawn  wholly  from  his  fancy." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  89 

"  But  that  was  a  feeble  and  senseless  movement, 
bound  from  the  start  to  fail." 

"  Absurd!  If  it  ever  took  place,  it  ought  to  have 
succeeded.  Explain  yourself !" 

"  No,  it  had  to  fail  because  there  was  no  reason  for 
it." 

"  No  reason  for  it?  Then  why  did  the  women 
rise?" 

"  The  sensible  women  did  not.  It  was  only  the  un 
gainly  sharp-tongued  and  sour-visaged  ones  that  re 
belled.  They  were  thoroughly  out  of  sorts  because 
the  men  paid  them  no  attention.  The  gracious  and 
beautiful  ones  always  got  everything  they  wanted  and 
were  perfectly  satisfied." 

"  Your  view  is  flattering  but  not  well  borne  out  by 
Aristophanes,  whose  two  plays  that  deal  with  the  sub 
ject  I  fancy  you  never  read.  Let  us  come  back  to 
Rome !  What  man  is  so  stupid  as  to  say  that  the 
women  here  have  too  much  liberty?  " 

"  I  was  but  jesting." 

"  Truths  have  a  habit  of  hiding  behind  jests. 
What  was  it  you  had  in  mind?  " 

"  Don't  force  me  to  be  sententious  like  Cicero.  I 
hate  his  discussions  about  the  state." 

"  I  will  know  your  mind.     What  did  you  mean?  " 

"  The  old  days  were  better  when  women  lived  in 
seclusion.  Now  they  are  seen  too  much,  heard  too 
much,  talked  about  too  much." 

"How,  pray?" 

'  They  are  loud  and  unmannerly  at  the  theater  and 
the  circus;  they  throng  the  streets  and  gaze  shame- 


9o  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

lessly  at  our  most  indecent  holiday  shows;  they  in 
trigue  in  state  affairs;  they  hold  down  their  thumbs 
when  a  gladiator  falls;  it  is  said  that  some  of  them 
are  even  training  to  fight  in  the  arena." 

'  These  are  abuses.  I  admit  it.  But  they  do  not 
affect  the  great  body  of  Roman  women  and  they  are 
but  the  natural  consequence  of  shutting  women  up  for 
so  many  hundred  years." 

'  You  can't  shut  them  in.  It  would  do  no  good  if 
you  did.  They  have  always  had  their  own  way  and 
they  always  will." 

'  What  a  monstrous  theory!  " 

"  I  can  prove  it  by  facts." 

"  Prove  it  then.     I  challenge  you." 

'  There's  no  jury." 

"  I  will  be  the  jury." 

*  Your  mind  is  made  up.  Arguments  won't  affect 
it." 

"  No,  I  will  be  fair.  But  I  shall  interrupt  you  as 
much  as  I  please." 

1  Very  well.  Women,  I  say,  have  always  had  their 
own  way.  That  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  they  have 
had  a  hand  in  everything  of  consequence  that  has  ever 
been  done." 

"  Instances.  I  demand  instances  and  many  of 
them." 

'  To  begin  with,  Helen  brought  on  the  Trojan 
War." 

"  Poor  Helen !  How  often  that  has  been  brought 
up  against  her !  " 

'  The  war  fairly  begun,  Achilles  made  it  drag  by 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  91 

skulking  in  his  tent,  and  all  because  Agamemnon 
robbed  him  of  his  fair  captive." 

"  It  was  his  bad  temper  that  was  to  blame.  Don't 
put  it  on  the  woman !  " 

"  No,  you  are  evading  the  point.  I  told  you  argu 
ments  would  have  no  weight  with  you.  Achilles'  evil 
temper  would  not  have  been  roused  if  they  had  not 
taken  Briseis  from  him." 

"  Very  well.  I  grant  it.  But  more  instances. 
Two  prove  nothing  at  all." 

"  Woman,  as  I  say,  must  have  a  hand  in  every 
thing,  even  in  war,  wretched  business  though  it  is. 
There  were  the  Amazons.  Those  doughty  leaders  of 
theirs,  Penthesilea  and  Camilla,  were  no  match  for 
Achilles  and  ^Eneas,  but  they  did  their  best." 

"  It  is  only  a  myth.  I  do  not  believe  they  ever  ex 
isted." 

'  Truth  hides  behind  myths  as  well  as  jests.  Isn't 
that  Artemisia  I  see  painted  on  the  ceiling?  "  and 
Cethegus  gazed  gravely  upward  as  he  spoke. 

Julia  flushed,  but  she  could  not  help  laughing  at 
Cethegus'  quick-witted  method  of  turning  the  tables 
upon  her. 

"  It  is  she.  I  can't  deny  it,"  she  exclaimed.  "  But 
I  believe  I  will  have  her  painted  out  to-morrow  and 
let  the  artist  put  a  picture  without  a  woman  in  it  — 
Solon  before  Croesus  perhaps  —  in  her  place.  I 
never  thought  she  would  so  humiliate  me.  Go  on!  " 

"  And  then  —  alas  that  I  should  have  to  say  it  — 
it  is  not  on  the  battle-field  only  that  women  have  done 
others  to  death." 


92  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

"  What  an  outrageous  assertion.  You  never  can 
maintain  it." 

44  I  can  do  so  easily,  but  the  case  demands  that  I 
sacrifice  gallantry  to  facts." 

"  Very  well.  Put  gallantry  aside  and  state  your 
facts  if  you  can." 

44  To  begin  with,  there  was  Agamemnon,  poor  man. 
He  had  barely  crossed  his  threshold  after  a  ten  years' 
absence  before  he  was  laid  low  by  his  own  wife." 

"Poor  man,  indeed!  The  wretch  would  have  let 
his  own  daughter  die  on  the  altar.  I  don't  wonder 
Clytemnestra  killed  him." 

"  Excuse  her  if  you  please,  but  that  little  episode 
of  Iphigenia  proves  again  how  the  woman's  hand  is 
always  showing  itself.  Then  there  was  that  very  un 
pleasant  lady  whose  mind  was  more  set  on  dragons' 
chariots  than  on  bringing  up  her  children." 

44  Don't  name  Medea's  hideous  deed!  She  was 
just  a  witch.  She  wasn't  a  woman." 

4  Well,  the  same  cannot  be  said  of  the  Danaids. 
Think  of  it!  Forty-nine  husbands  gone  in  one  night. 
I  wonder  that  any  man  dared  to  marry  after  that." 

44  At  any  rate  the  fiftieth  Danaid  was  faithful." 

44  But  she  had  to  lie  in  order  to  be  so." 

44  All  the  more  credit  she  deserved  for  that.  Hor 
ace  calls  her  a  4  glorious  liar.'  "  1 

44  For  another  case  —  spying  is  an  odious  practice, 
I  admit;  but  it  is  hard  to  be  torn  in  pieces  for  it — " 

44  You  needn't  name  Pentheus,  and  you  needn't  say 
any  more.  You  would  go  on  and  pick  out  case  after 

1  Splendide  mendax. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  93 

case  from  myth  and  history  where  a  woman's  work 
and  influence  are  undeniable.  But  I  could  bring  for 
ward  ten  times  as  many  in  which  woman  does  not  ap 
pear  at  all.  I  am  the  jury  and  I  say  you  are  more 
badly  beaten  than  Jischines  was  when  he  was  foolish 
enough  to  argue  against  Demosthenes." 

"  Not  half  so  foolish  as  the  man  who  tries  to  argue 
against  a  quick-witted  woman.  I  admit  defeat.  Yet 
even  in  being  vanquished  I  have  proved  my  point.  A 
woman  who  can  conduct  a  case  so  well  deserves  no 
sympathy.  The  world  will  refuse  her  nothing  that 
she  wishes." 

"  Very  well.  My  present  wish  is  that,  as  you  have 
shown  yourself  a  master  in  the  art  of  flattery,  you  give 
no  more  of  it  but  tell  me  something  interesting.  What 
is  really  going  on  in  the  city?  What  choice  story  is 
Corbo  the  parasite  relating  now?  What  are  you  and 
those  hard-working  friends  of  yours  doing?  Any 
thing  besides  eating  and  drinking?  I  suppose  you 
could  not  even  describe  a  banquet  without  trying  to 
prove  how  the  *  woman's  hand  is  always  showing  it 
self.'  ' 

"  Assuredly  not.  Did  not  Milo  tell  you  how  Mar 
cus  came  late  to  the  dinner  that  was  given  especially 
to  him?" 

"Milo?  Of  course  not.  I  get  little  out  of  him 
and  that  only  by  hard  questioning.  What  was  it  that 
made  Marcus  late?  " 

Cethegus  was  not  without  suspicion  that  Julia  was 
better  informed  about  all  that  happened  at  the  ban 
quet  than  she  was  willing  to  admit.  Yet  he  told  the 


94  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

story  with  some  appropriate  modifications.  He  was 
indeed  pleased  to  have  the  opportunity  of  doing  so, 
for  he  wished  to  see  how  the  mention  of  Marcus  af 
fected  Julia.  He  was  not  malicious  or  unfair.  He 
related  the  facts  of  Marcus'  late  appearance  at  the 
banquet  as  they  really  were,  without  coloring  them  so 
as  to  make  his  rival  appear  in  an  unduly  discreditable 
light.  With  his  habitually  calm  and  calculating  tem 
per  he  was  simply  seeking  information  that  was  im 
portant  for  the  accomplishment  of  his  most  cherished 
ends.  Accordingly,  while  he  spoke  he  watched  Julia 
as  closely  as  he  could  without  making  it  manifest.  She 
on  her  part  was  endeavoring  to  appear  as  unconcerned 
as  possible. 

"  So,"  Cethegus  concluded,  "  the  woman's  hand 
showed  itself  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  feast;  and  I 
fancy  it  would  have  been  apparent  at  the  end  could 
we  have  known  why  two  of  the  dancers  wore  masks." 

1  Wore  masks?  "  queried  Julia,  still  preserving  her 
manner  of  indifference.  "  How  was  that?  Why 
should  any  of  the  dancing  girls  have  wished  to  dis 
guise  themselves?  " 

'  Why  indeed?  My  suspicion  is  that  they  were 
ladies  of  rank  who  amuse  themselves  in  this  way  but 
do  not  wish  to  have  it  known  and  talked  about.  The 
figure  of  one  of  them  was  strangely  familiar.  Per 
haps  I  should  have  recognized  her  if  I  had  looked 
hard  enough.  But  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  more  inter 
ested  in  watching  Caius,  who  was  as  excited  as  a  dog 
that  has  scented  a  rabbit." 

"  Why  do  men  like  you  and  Lentulus  and  Marcus 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  95 

consort  with  gluttons  and  tipplers?" 

Watchful  and  keenly  discerning  as  he  was,  Cethegus 
felt  that  he  was,  if  not  making  new  discoveries,  at  least 
confirming  previous  impressions.  It  did  not  escape 
him  that  Julia  named  Marcus  last,  as  if  she  were  try 
ing  to  make  it  appear  that  she  was  not  interested  in 
him  especially.  But  his  countenance  did  not  give  the 
smallest  clue  to  his  inward  satisfaction  as  he  replied. 

"  I  should  really  be  glad  to  know.  If  I  did  not 
belong  to  the  circle  myself  and  were  to  meet  them  all 
for  the  first  time,  I  should  say  it  was  a  case  of  eagles 
flocking  with  crows." 

''What  pains  you  take  to  appear  modest!  With 
what  species,  pray,  would  the  observer  class  himself?  " 

'  With  the  domestic  fowls,  perhaps.  My  tastes 
are  not  for  war  or  plunder." 

u  No.  As  you  claim  so  little  for  yourself,  I  will 
class  you  with  the  eagles.  But  are  you  three  eagles 
always  going  to  fly  with  the  crows?  Why  don't  you 
soar?" 

"  Just  to  try  our  wings?  " 

"  No,  to  view  the  country  and  make  nests  for  your 
selves." 

"  I  must  not  say  it  would  be  dangerous  because  the 
eagle  is  a  good  target  and  the  arrow  of  the  informer 
is  deadly.  If  I  did,  you  would  quote  Sophocles  again, 
as  you  did  at  Latiaris'  entertainment.  I  will  claim 
to  be  ambitious  and  say  that  some  day  may  find  us 
soaring.  There  are  nests  that  would  suit  me  very  well 
and  I  may  secure  one.  I  might  become  a  Maecenas. 
Who  knows?" 


96  THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

"And  who  in  that  case  would  be  emperor?"  in 
quired  Julia  with  the  air  of  entire  innocence. 

Cethegus  was  vexed  beyond  measure  with  himself. 
He  had  fallen  into  a  trap  which  his  own  hands  had 
laid.  It  was  exasperating  to  be  forced  to  extol  his 
rival;  yet  the  true  Roman  courage  that  was  in  him 
made  him  face  the  situation  manfully,  gaining  Julia's 
respect  thereby,  though  that  he  did  not  quite  realize. 

"  I  should  rather  it  would  be  Marcus  than  Tibe 
rius,"  he  replied. 

"  And  how  about  Lentulus?"  was  Julia's  further 
query. 

"  Lentulus?     Why,  he  is  a  Stoic." 

"  But  what  does  he  do?     What  will  he  do?  " 

"  Do?  He  won't  do  anything.  He  will  just  be  a 
Stoic." 

"  He  was  made  to  do  something.  He  shall  do 
something.  There  are  things  enough  for  men  like 
him  to  put  their  hands  to  —  oh,  too  many  of  them." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  help  him  to  find  the  particular 
thing  that  is  waiting  for  him." 

"I?     What,  pray,  could  I  do?" 

u  The  most  clever  and  beautiful  woman  in  Rome 
asks  what  she  can  do.  As  much  as  she  chooses. 
More  in  these  changeful  days  than  Aspasia  accom 
plished  so  long  ago." 

"  No  more  flattery.  And  the  future  Maecenas  — 
I  suppose  he  too  would  be  pleased  to  receive  a  helping 
hand." 

"  It  would  make  any  ambition  possible." 

"  Admirable.     The   Goddesses   may   well   look   to 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  97 

their  laurels.  I  seem  to  be  Venus  and  Minerva  all  in 
one.  I  shall  be  discreet,  then,  like  the  Goddess  of 
Wisdom  and,  however  much  disposed  I  may  be  to  help 
any  wandering  Ulysses  that  may  be  in  need  of  guid 
ance,  I  shall  not  make  promises  that  I  might  be  ut 
terly  unable  to  keep." 


VIII 

MARCUS  could  not  help  feeling  that  in  the  end 
he  should  yield  to  Julia's  potent  charm  and 
to  her  passionate  endeavors  to  kindle  his  am 
bition.  But  inasmuch  as  his  heart  was  not  really 
touched,  this  consciousness  only  increased  his  restless 
mood.  His  longing  to  find  distraction  through  lively 
and  absorbing  recreation  became  intensified.  He  ex 
ercised  long  and  severely  at  the  gymnasium.  He 
missed  no  spectacle  at  the  Circus  or  elsewhere.  He 
went  with  his  friends  to  resorts  both  innocent  and 
questionable.  Especially  did  he  seek  the  wine  room 
of  his  old  acquaintance,  Delphium. 

This  clever  woman,  of  winsome  manners  and  easy 
virtue,  he  had  known  years  before  in  Sicily.  For 
three  years  his  father  had  been  stationed  in  that  island 
to  stop  the  depredations  of  the  natives  in  the  moun 
tain  districts.  His  home  during  this  period  was  in 
the  town  of  Catana.  Next  door  to  him  dwelt  a  fam 
ily  of  Greek  origin,  consisting  of  a  fruit  dealer,  his 
wife,  and  their  daughter  Delphium.  When  Agrippa 
settled  in  the  island  Marcus  was  twelve.  Delphium 
was  two  years  older.  Proximity  made  the  boy  and 
girl  intimate.  They  were  both  so  young  that  little 
restriction  was  put  upon  their  intercourse.  But  when 
after  three  years  Agrippa  was  called  back  to  Rome, 
Marcus  bade  his  playmate  good-by  and  thought  with 

98 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  99 

a  boy's  lively  but  transient  sorrow  that  he  should  not 
see  her  again. 

Two  years  later  Delphium's  mother  fell  a  victim  to 
an  epidemic  of  fever.  For  her  husband  this  was  a 
deep  grief;  for  Delphium  it  was  a  calamity.  Her 
father  was  a  blameless  man  without  force  of  character. 
Her  mother  was  a  woman  of  clear  intelligence,  reso 
lute  will  and  uncompromising  principle.  Her  mental 
shrewdness  and  her  strength  of  will  Delphium  had 
also;  her  invincible  integrity  she  lacked.  Her  feel 
ings  were  ardent;  her  nature  was  self-indulgent.  She 
needed  guidance  and  control  at  the  very  time  when 
she  was  deprived  of  it.  For  her  mother's  death 
aroused  in  her  the  desire  to  seek  her  fortunes,  and  her 
father  could  not  restrain  her.  In  spite  of  his  protes 
tations  and  entreaties  she  left  her  home  with  only  a 
handful  of  silver  in  her  possession.  With  this  scant 
supply  of  money,  which  was  all  her  father  could  spare 
from  his  slender  resources,  she  journeyed  toward 
Rome.  An  adventuress  at  heart,  she  was  conscious 
that  her  beauty  would  be  a  fertile  resource  where 
wealth  was  abundant. 

And  this  she  had  an  opportunity  to  realize  before 
she  had  proceeded  very  far  on  her  way  toward  the 
dissolute  capital.  One  evening  just  before  sunset  she 
stopped  at  an  inn  in  Lucania  not  far  from  the  town 
of  Tegianum.  Here  she  soon  saw  that  she  was  in 
dangerous  company  and  she  had  an  exciting  adventure 
to  be  hereafter  related.  The  upshot  of  it  was  that 
she  nursed  a  wounded  man  to  health  and  did  not  leave 
him  till  she  had  acquired  a  sum  of  gold  and  parted 


loo         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

with  her  self-respect. 

Her  journey  toward  Rome  she  now  steadily  pur 
sued;  but  before  reaching  it  she  once  more  found  that 
the  path  of  the  adventuress  easily  leads  to  the  gateway 
of  adventure.  Arriving  at  Lavinium  on  the  Via 
Appia,  she  chanced  to  meet  a  wealthy  Roman  patri 
cian  who  was  instantly  captivated  by  her  beauty. 
This  ingratiating  but  unprincipled  youth,  Ahenobarbus 
by  name,  had  tired  of  the  gay  life  of  the  capital  and 
had  built  him  a  villa  in  the  hills  a  few  miles  from  La 
vinium.  Here  he  devoted  himself  to  his  books  and 
to  his  favorite  pastime  of  hunting.  But  he  considered 
it  a  bit  of  rare  good  fortune  that  he  should  have  en 
countered  Delphium,  and  without  much  difficulty  he 
persuaded  her  that  the  air  of  his  mountain  residence 
was  better  than  that  of  the  swarming  city  on  the  Tiber. 

For  a  whole  year  she  remained  there.  Of  the  gay 
alluring  capital  she  got  one  passing  glimpse;  for 
Ahenobarbus  once  took  her  to  Rome  and  spent  a  few 
days  with  her  there.  But  of  the  tone  and  manners  of 
Roman  youth  she  gained  a  considerable  knowledge. 
When  he  wanted  diversion  Ahenobarbus  invited  a 
group  of  his  friends  to  visit  him;  and  on  such  occa 
sions  Delphium  saw  much  without  herself  being  seen. 
She  could  indeed  have  mingled  freely  with  the  guests 
of  the  house  had  she  wished  it.  Ahenobarbus  would 
have  been  glad  to  have  her  do  so.  He  had  no 
thought  of  ever  marrying  and  of  decorum  and  appear 
ances  he  was  utterly  regardless.  On  the  other  hand 
he  was  not  hard  or  ungenerous,  and  he  would  not  urge 
Delphium  to  do  that  which  was  condemned  by  her 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT-     \  L 


judgment  and  by  her  sense  of  modesty  which  she  had 
indeed  badly  wounded  but  not  utterly  destroyed.  To 
be  the  only  woman  in  a  company  of  carousing  men 
was  distasteful.  To  be  known  by  youths  who  had  a 
wide  acquaintance  in  Rome  was  imprudent. 

At  the  end  of  a  year  she  saw  that  Ahenobarbus  was 
tiring  of  her.  She  determined  therefore  to  leave  him 
and  make  her  way  to  the  capital  to  which  all  along 
she  had  felt  so  strongly  drawn.  She  was  rather  glad 
than  sorry  to  leave.  The  handsome  young  patrician 
had  inspired  no  passion  in  her.  Agreeable  though 
she  had  found  him,  she  had  longed  for  a  gayer  life 
and  a  varied  companionship.  Her  mind  had  ever  been 
turning  to  the  games  and  shows  of  the  great  imperial 
city  and  to  its  endless  opportunities  for  lively  inter 
course  with  men  and  women. 

Ahenobarbus  made  no  serious  effort  to  detain  her, 
but  he  frowned  upon  her  scheme  for  bettering  herself. 
Correctly  reading  the  lesson  of  her  own  turbid  expe 
rience,  the  far-sighted  girl  of  twenty  had  determined 
to  abandon  the  path  into  which  she  had  been  so  easily 
lured.  She  was  sobered  by  Ahenobarbus'  indifference. 
Evil  was  a  quagmire.  She  would  turn  from  its  quak 
ing  depths  before  it  was  too  late  and  plant  her  feet  on 
the  solid  ground  of  respectability. 

"  But  you  cannot  leave  this  road  you  have  chosen," 
said  Ahenobarbus.  "  No  woman  ever  can." 

"Why  not?" 

"  You  ought  to  know." 

"  But  I  don't  know  and  I  don't  believe  it." 

'  When  a  woman  has  done  what  you  have  done, 


102         THE  SON  .OF  THE  PREFECT 

she  cannot  leave  it  behind  her,  any  more  than  she  can 
make  her  stola  white  after  it  has  been  dyed  purple. 
Her  past  clings  to  her  and  becomes  known." 

u  It  needn't  be  known.  You,  I  am  sure,  would  not 
wish  to  betray  me.  You  would  have  no  occasion  to 
do  so,  for  you  go  very  little  to  Rome;  and  when  you 
do  go,  please  keep  away  from  me.  As  to  your 
friends,  I  have  not  let  myself  be  seen  by  the  men  you 
have  brought  here.  If  I  go  to  Rome  no  one  will  rec 
ognize  me." 

'  Not  a  single  one  of  them  has  never  marked  or 
noted  you?  " 

"  I  did  come  face  to  face  once  with  one  of  them. 
But  he  might  not  recognize  me  and  I  might  never 
meet  him." 

"  Suppose  you  did  not.  I  still  say  that  the  real 
truth  about  you  would  come  out.  It  always  does 
when  a  woman  has  once  lived  as  if  she  were  married 
although  she  is  not." 

"  I  am  not  going  to  be  daunted  by  such  forebod 
ings.  I  am  going  to  Rome  and  I  am  going  to  mingle 
with  people  who  are  respected  and  make  them  respect 


me." 


'  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  Sit  still  and  wait  for 
Fortune  to  pour  all  the  things  you  wish  into  your 
lap?" 

:t  No.     I  am  going  to  open  a  wine  room." 
Ahenobarbus  threw  up  his  hands  in  despair. 

'  The  very  worst  thing  you  could  do,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  It  would  draw  about  you  drunken  evil-looking  men 
—  yes,  and  women  too.  Besides,  women  don't  con- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         103 

duct  wine  rooms.  It  isn't  the  sort  of  thing  a  woman 
is  fitted  to  do." 

"  It  will  have  to  be  my  father's  enterprise;  but  in 
his  name  I  am  going  to  do  it  and  I  am  going  to  keep  it 
decent.  Man  though  you  are,  you  do  not  know  as 
much  about  things  as  I  do.  You  do  not  know,  for  the 
reason  that  you  have  never  used  your  will  and  found 
out  what  you  could  do  with  it.  You  are  thoroughly 
indolent.  You  read,  you  hunt,  and  you  carouse.  You 
never  yet  worked  for  anything  with  a  fixed  unconquer 
able  determination.  I  am  going  to  leave  this  muddy 
road  I  have  been  walking  in.  I  don't  altogether  like 
it,  and  the  mud  will  sometime  get  too  deep.  I  can 
see  that  and  I  am  glad  I  have  seen  it  in  time.  So  I 
am  going  to  step  out  and  walk  on  the  grass.  You  say 
I  can't.  I  say  I  can  and  will.  Yes:  I  tell  you,  I 
will,  I  will,  I  will.  We  can  do  anything  if  we  make 
up  our  minds  that  we  can.  I  will  prove  it  to  you." 

"  You  have  made  up  your  mind  to  do  a  thing  that 
can't  be  done.  But  you  have  my  good  wishes,  and  if 
you  are  determined  to  open  a  wine  room  I  will  see  that 
you  have  the  means  to  do  it  with." 

Ahenobarbus  was  as  good  as  his  word.  He  gave 
Delphium  an  ample  store  of  gold  and  jewels  when  she 
left  him;  and,  that  said,  he  may  be  dismissed  from 
consideration.  He  will  not  again  appear  in  these 
pages.  His  kindness  and  generosity  had  won  from 
Delphium  a  liking  that  might  have  ripened  into  affec 
tion  had  his  own  feeling  for  her  been  deep  and  lasting. 
As  it  was,  her  parting  from  him  cost  her  no  pang  and 
she  eagerly  found  her  way  to  the  great  center  of  gay- 


io4         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

ety  and  pleasure. 

The  first  thing  she  did  on  arriving  there  was  to  seek 
out  a  disreputable  knave  named  Euthro  whom  she  and 
her  family  had  known  in  Sicily.  She  had  no  thought 
of  letting  him  compromise  her.  She  went  to  him  sim 
ply  to  use  him.  He  kept  a  vicious  resort  which  drew 
pleasure-lovers  of  various  types  and  classes;  and  in 
those  days  to  know  the  pleasure  seekers  of  Rome  was 
to  know  Rome.  Through  this  panderer  to  debased 
appetites  Delphium  learned  much  without  revealing 
any  of  her  own  lapses  from  virtue.  Indeed,  she  made 
it  very  plain  to  Euthro  that  the  wine  room  which  her 
father  was  about  to  establish  was  to  be  kept  free 
from  unclean  orgies  and  all  manner  of  reproach. 
Euthro  was,  like  Ahenobarbus,  incredulous  that  this 
could  be  done;  but  he  readily  helped  her  to  carry  out 
her  scheme  and  gave  her  all  manner  of  information 
about  Roman  youths  and  their  doings. 

From  him  she  learned  about  Marcus  and  his  circle 
of  friends  and  what  she  heard  determined  her  not  to 
seek  out  him  and  his  father  and  make  herself  known 
to  them.  She  had  half  intended  to  do  this.  She  was 
sure  they  would  receive  her  kindly.  But  what  she 
was  told  about  Marcus  made  her  certain  that  he 
would  find  his  way  to  her  when  the  resort  was  opened. 
And  this  would  be  better  than  to  make  approaches 
herself.  He  would  have  more  respect  for  her  if  he 
found  she  was  helping  her  father  to  make  his  liveli 
hood  and  that  they  were  not  in  need  of  assistance. 
Moreover,  if  she  went  to  him  before  she  carried  out 
her  plan,  he  and  his  father  would  both  discourage  it 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          105 

as  Ahenobarbus  had  done.  If  he  found  the  plan  suc 
cessfully  working,  what  could  he  say  in  opposition  to 
it? 

Delphium's  father  fell  in  with  her  wishes.  He 
came  to  Rome  and  started  the  wine  room,  though  he 
was  quite  broken  in  health  and  was  very  soon  obliged 
to  leave  the  conduct  of  it  largely  in  her  hands.  To 
carry  out  the  project  she  secured  a  house  on  the 
Esquiline  in  the  rear  of  which  she  lived  with  her 
father,  three  serving  maids,  and  a  truculent  character 
named  Gugon,  a  native  Sicilian  who  had  at  one  time 
been  employed  by  her  father  and  whom  by  a  fortunate 
chance  she  had  stumbled  on  in  Rome.  It  was  largely 
indeed  through  him  that  she  kept  the  resort  free  from 
gross  excesses.  For  Gugon  had  unusual  strength,  an 
ugly  temper  and  the  courage  of  a  mastiff.  Surly  to 
others,  he  was  attached  to  Delphium  and  faithful  to 
her  interests.  His  rage  was  easily  excited,  and  even 
the  insolent  Roman  youths  did  not  care  to  provoke 
an  encounter  with  him.  He  allowed  no  unseemly  riot 
ing,  and  if  they  found  the  resort,  which  soon  came  to 
be  known  as  Delphium's,  too  tame  they  sought  wild 
and  unrestrained  pleasure  elsewhere. 

In  the  front  part  of  the  house  was  a  spacious  room 
where  wine  was  served  and  two  smaller  ones,  known 
as  vici  or  saloons,  for  the  accommodation  of  groups 
who  wished  to  converse  and  make  merry  together. 
One  of  these  two  became  a  favorite  gathering  place 
for  Marcus  and  his  friends.  Very  early  after  the 
wine  room  was  opened  they  found  their  way  to  it;  and 
it  was  during  his  first  visit  there  that  Marcus  found 


io6         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

himself  face  to  face  with  the  playmate  of  his  boyhood. 

'Why,  Delphium!"  he  cried  on  recognizing  her. 
*  When  did  you  come  to  Rome?  " 

"  Only  two  months  since,"  was  the  reply.  "  This 
enterprise  is  not  one  of  long-standing,  as  I  think  you 
know." 

"But  how  came  you  to  leave  Catana?  Are  your 
father  and  mother  here  too?" 

"  My  mother  died  more  than  a  year  ago.  It  was 
sad  and  lonely  in  the  house.  I  thought  we  could  bet 
ter  ourselves  and  find  living  less  dull  and  tiresome 
here.  So  I  came  and  looked  about  me  and  then  sent 
word  to  my  father  to  come  too.  I  saw  this  means  of 
making  a  livelihood." 

u  But  why  did  you  not  come  to  my  father  and  me?  " 

;<  I  am  a  woman,  Marcus.  I  thought  it  better  you 
should  find  your  way  to  me." 

"  And  perhaps  you  learned  enough  about  me  to  feel 
sure  that  I  should  do  so.  Well,  I  am  here  and  I  am 
pleased  to  see  you  again.  But  I  should  have  been  only 
too  glad  to  help  you  if  you  had  called  upon  me.  So 
would  my  father  have  been.  Yet  you  do  not  really 
seem  to  have  been  in  need  of  help.  Has  your  father 
been  prospering  lately?" 

Marcus  looked  around  him  as  he  asked  the  ques 
tion.  He  seemed  to  be  wondering  where  the  money 
could  have  come  from  that  was  needed  for  such  an 
ambitious  enterprise.  Well  did  he  know  that  when 
he  lived  in  Sicily  the  fruit-dealer's  substance  had  been 
of  the  scantiest.  Anxious  to  say  something  that  would 
allay  any  rising  suspicion,  Delphium  answered  hur- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         107 

riedly  and  thoughtlessly. 

"  No,  his  trade  was  always  poor.  It  was  with 
money  left  me  by  an  uncle  who  died  in  Syracuse  that 
he  established  himself  here." 

"  And  his  venture  is  successful?" 

"  Quite  so.  His  wines  are  good.  Many  find  their 
way  here.  He  is  prospering." 

"  That  is  well.  But  remember  that  both  my  father 
and  I  should  be  glad  to  help  you  and  him  if  ever  you 
should  need  advice  or  any  kind  of  assistance." 

The  wines  were  in  fact  excellent.  Marcus  and  his 
friends  found  the  resort  attractive  and  went  to  it 
habitually.  Seeing  Marcus  often,  Delphium  became 
deeply  interested  in  him.  When  she  parted  from  him 
in  Catana  he  was  a  boy.  Now  he  was  a  man  with  all 
the  qualities  that  appeal  strongly  to  a  woman.  It  was 
not  strange  therefore  that  her  feeling  for  him  grew 
till  it  became  an  over-mastering  passion.  The  slum 
bering  fires  in  her  nature  which  Ahenobarbus  had  failed 
to  rouse  had  now  been  fully  kindled.  But  they  glowed 
with  a  lurid  flame.  She  was  too  wise,  and  even  in 
spite  of  her  missteps  too  self-respecting,  to  reveal  the 
fierceness  of  her  passion;  yet  fierce  it  was  and  capable 
of  turning  into  treachery  and  hatred  if  ungratified. 

Was  there  any  possibility  that  it  could  be  gratified? 
Could  she  win  this  magnificent  young  Roman  who  had 
all  the  world  before  him,  who  could  seek  alliance  with 
one  of  the  illustrious  families  of  Rome  and  climb  to 
almost  any  height  he  might  aspire  to?  She  was  not 
without  hope.  She  read  him  easily.  She  knew  well 
that  for  a  woman  who  had  won  his  heart  he  would 


1 08         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

defy  the  world  and  make  any  sacrifice.  And  so  far 
she  felt  sure  that  he  had  given  his  affection  to  no  other 
woman.  That  his  heart  had  been  touched  she  saw  no 
signs,  and  she  was  watching  for  them  carefully.  But 
it  was  still  more  patent  that  he  had  not  the  smallest 
sentimental  regard  for  herself.  He  had  resumed  his 
boyhood  friendship  in  a  genuine  whole-hearted  way 
that  was  characteristic  of  him.  He  always  greeted  her 
with  marked  cordiality.  Once  in  a  while  he  showed 
himself  to  be  no  mere  wine-room  acquaintance  by  mak 
ing  his  way  into  the  domestic  apartments  in  the  rear 
for  a  brief  chat  with  her  or  with  her  father.  But  the 
relationship  showed  no  signs  of  ripening  into  intimacy, 
much  less  of  encouraging  sentiment. 

It  was  not  easy  therefore  for  this  clever  and  design 
ing  woman  to  find  any  point  of  attack.  But  she  was. 
steadily  watching  to  find  one.  She  relied  much  upon 
her  personal  charm;  for  the  rose  of  her  complexion, 
her  golden  hair  and  her  regular  features  made  her  fair 
to  look  upon.  That  Marcus  had  seen  more  regal 
types  of  beauty  she  did  not  know.  She  relied  too  upon 
her  wit  and  her  power  to  use  the  wiles  with  which  an 
unscrupulous  woman  compasses  her  ends.  So  she 
hoped  and  believed  that  time  would  bring  her  oppor 
tunities  to  further  this  one  passionately  cherished 
scheme.  Quite  confidently  she  hoped  it,  for  the  ad 
venturess  is  bound  to  believe  in  her  own  star.  Yet  all 
the  while  she  had  an  uneasy  feeling  that  those  facts  in 
her  life  which  she  was  trying  to  keep  hidden  might 
become  known.  Nor  was  this  foreboding  a  mere  in 
definable  dread  that  was  due  to  an  erring  past.  For 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          109 

she  had  found  herself  confronted  in  the  wine-room  by 
the  very  man  who  had  seen  her  once  at  the  villa  of 
Ahenobarbus.  The  man  was  Cethegus.  Had  he  rec 
ognized  her?  Yes,  the  peculiar  look  he  had  given  her 
made  that  only  too  apparent.  Would  he  betray  her? 
That  she  hardly  thought,  for  he  seemed  to  be  free  from 
malice  and  petty  feeling. 


IX 

IT    was    to    Delphium's   wine    room    that    Marcus 
wended  his  way  the  evening  of  the  day  that  fol 
lowed  his  perturbing  interview  with  Julia.      It  was 
not    his   purpose   to   spend   the   evening   there.     The 
diversion  that  he  craved  he  intended  to  seek  in  an 
other  place.     But  at  Delphium's  he  was  confident  he 
should  find  his  intimates  assembled,  and  it  would  be 
pleasant  to   exchange  greetings  with  them.     Perhaps 
one  or  more  of  them  would  accompany  him  to  the  ulti 
mate  destination  to  which  he  was  bound. 

He  was  right  in  conjecturing  that  he  should  find  his 
circle  at  the  wine  room.  The  members  of  it  had  in 
deed  assembled  there  before  him.  In  the  vicus  that 
had  become  their  usual  evening  rendezvous  were 
seated  Caius,  Milo,  Cethegus,  Bibulus,  Curio,  and 
others  who  knew  Marcus  and  admired  him.  They 
found  their  cups  of  Falernian  grateful  on  the  warm 
July  evening;  for  the  wine  had  been  made  cool  to  the 
palate  even  if  it  was  not  cooling  to  the  blood.  They 
were  cheered  and  pleased  too  by  the  presence  of 
Delphium.  For  this  was  a  boon  so  infrequently  and 
charily  bestowed  as  to  make  it  highly  appreciated  when 
given.  Ahenobarbus'  warnings  had  impressed  the 
shrewd  Greek  woman  even  though  they  had  not  turned 
her  from  her  purpose.  For  a  woman  to  conduct  such 
an  establishment  as  hers  was  not  in  itself  certainly  a 

no 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         1 1 1 

title  to  fair  fame  and  respect.  But  with  true  Greek 
craftiness  and  subtlety  she  argued  that  she  might  make 
it  a  title  by  a  peculiarly  circumspect  behavior.  To 
move  among  roisterers  and  hotbloods  and  compel  them 
to  show  her  deference  was  a  triumphant  vindication  of 
her  womanly  modesty.  And  this  deference  she  knew 
how  to  command.  She  showed  herself  but  little  in  the 
wine  room  and  its  two  adjoining  saloons.  She  never 
remained  in  any  of  these  gathering  places  very  long  at 
a  time.  She  was  never  without  the  company  of  one  of 
the  attending  maids  and  she  never  sat  down.  Civili 
ties  she  exchanged,  but  undue  familiarity  she  did  not 
countenance.  At  the  first  word  that  carried  even  the 
suggestion  of  it  she  left  the  merry-makers  to  them 
selves.  And  one  or  two  lessons  of  this  kind  were  suf 
ficient.  Her  society  was  considered  so  desirable  that 
the  lively  spirits  who  frequented  her  establishment 
were  willing  to  restrain  themselves  in  order  to  secure 
it. 

With  Marcus  and  his  friends  she  was  on  less  formal 
terms  than  with  other  visitors;  for  the  very  fact  that 
she  was  an  old  acquaintance  of  Marcus  made  them  all 
treat  her  with  civility.  Still,  not  even  from  them  did 
she  ever  accept  an  invitation  to  be  seated.  On  the 
evening  in  question  she  had  appeared  before  them  after 
they  had  had  rather  a  dull  time  in  discussing  cock 
fights,  escapades  more  or  less  unsavory,  gladiatorial 
contests  and  other  well-worn  themes  that  dealt  with 
daily  happenings.  All  were  missing  the  companion 
who  was  apt  to  be  the  life  of  their  gatherings  when 
they  caught  sight  of  her.  Her  presence  seemed  at 


ii2         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

once  to  give  them  new  life  and  spirit. 

"  Delphium,  have  you  seen  Marcus  lately?"  in 
quired  Caius. 

"  No/'  was  the  quick  response,  "  but  I  wish  I  had. 
I've  seen  no  one  half  as  clever  or  half  as  much  of  a 


man." 


'Well  said,  Delphium!"  cried  Bibulus.  "Let  us 
drink  to  Marcus,  yes,  and  to  Delphium  too !  Here's 
to  Marcus  and  Delphium!  All  drink  to  Marcus  and 
Delphium !  " 

"  No,  no!  "  said  Milo,  not  altogether  pleased  that 
his  friend's  name  should  be  coupled  with  that  of  a 
woman  like  Delphium.  "  Let  us  drink  to  Marcus  and 
the  Unknown!  " 

u  Yes,  yes!  Marcus  and  the  Unknown!"  cried 
several  who  had  been  present  at  Milo's  banquet. 
"  The  Unknown  by  all  means.  But  we  must  find  out 
who  she  is.  We  had  forgotten  all  about  her." 

The  toast  was  drunk  and  no  sooner  was  it  done  than 
Caius  put  the  query, 

"Who  is  she,  Milo?" 

"  How  should  I  know?  Marcus  is  a  man  who  keeps 
his  own  counsels." 

"  Ask  Delphium,"  suggested  Cethegus. 

"Yes,  tell  us,  Delphium!  "  cried  the  livelier  spirits. 
"  You  know  all  Marcus'  secrets." 

"  Having  never  before  heard  of  the  lady,  I  can't 
say  who  she  is,"  said  Delphium  rather  shortly.  She 
was  not  pleased  to  learn  that  there  was  an  Unknown, 
nor  had  it  been  altogether  agreeable  to  her  that  the 
toast  had  been  changed  just  as  the  visitors  had  been 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         113 

about  to  drink  to  her  and  Marcus. 

"  We  must  find  out." 

"  Worm  it  out  of  him,  Delphium." 

"  He's  moody  all  the  time  now." 

"  He  thinks  of  nothing  but  a  pretty  mouth  and  a 
pair  of  black  eyes." 

"  I'll  wager  he's  tasting  those  pretty  lips  this  very 
minute." 

"  It's  some  low  wench  his  father  would  never  let 
him  marry." 

"  He  shall  tell  us.     We  must  get  it  out  of  him." 

Such  was  the  chorus  of  cries  that  arose  just  as  the 
heavy  curtain  that  screened  the  entrance  was  flung 
aside  and  Marcus  himself  entered  the  room.  Before 
he  could  seat  himself  or  say  a  word  of  greeting,  he  was 
assailed  by  vociferous  shouts  from  the  whole  company. 

"  Just  in  time,  Marcus.     Who  is  the  Unknown?" 

"  You  shan't  hide  it  any  longer." 

"  How  could  you  bear  to  leave  her  so  early?  " 

u  Did  she  shut  the  door  on  you?  " 

"  Who  is  the  villain  who  has  cut  you  out?  " 

These  and  many  more  such  were  the  boisterous  cries 
that  greeted  Marcus'  ears.  Scarcely  indeed  could  he 
distinguish  what  was  said,  so  deafening  was  the  din; 
for  already  the  heady  Falernian,  which  some  had  drunk 
undiluted,  had  begun  to  make  the  company  hilarious. 
And  Marcus  and  his  doings  always  awakened  their 
liveliest  interest,  such  was  the  force  of  his  commanding 
personality.  But  they  had  to  learn  again  what  they 
had  been  taught  so  often,  that  though  he  was,  in  his 
brighter  moods,  the  merriest  and  most  genial  of  them 


ii4         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

all,  he  would  never  be  led  or  influenced  against  his  will. 
Instead  of  answering  their  clamorous  demands,  he 
stood  still  and  gazed  steadily  at  them,  a  slight  curl  of 
the  lip  and  lowering  of  the  brows  showing  plainly  that 
he  viewed  their  efforts  to  force  his  confidence  with  en 
tire  contempt.  At  first  the  riotous  company  was  too 
excited  to  realize  the  full  meaning  of  his  attitude  and 
continued  its  noisy  queries.  But  speedily  the  cries 
grew  fainter,  and  in  a  very  short  time  they  died  away 
altogether.  Even  the  boldest  of  the  questioners 
turned  again  to  their  cups  with  the  muttered  comment, 
"  Oh,  he's  moody.  Let  him  alone!  We'll  find  it  out 
when  he's  in  a  better  humor."  The  clamor  ceasing, 
Marcus  seated  himself,  remarking  quietly, 

"  You  have  a  noisy  company  to-night,  Delphium." 

"  Will  you  have  wine,  Marcus?  " 

"  Not  I.  You  seem  to  be  serving  a  heady  mixture 
this  evening.  I  fear  it  might  make  me  like  the  rest  of 
your  visitors." 

"  No  danger  of  that.  But  don't  think  it  was  my 
wine  that  made  these  friends  of  yours  so  lively.  You 
caused  it  yourself.  They  were  merely  showing  their 
liking  for  you.  Why,  they  drank  to  you  just  now." 

"  Indeed  I  And  perhaps  also  to  the  Unknown  they 
are  so  curious  about?  " 

"  You  are  sometimes  annoyingly  acute,  Marcus. 
Your  perceptions  are  as  quick  as  a  woman's.  Now, 
what  put  that  thought  into  your  head?  " 

"  Considering  the  way  I  was  greeted  when  I  came 
in,  I  should  have  been  very  dull  not  to  think  it.  I  was 
only  putting  two  and  two  together." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         115 

"  Yes,  but  we  women  do  not  expect  men  to  put  two 
and  two  together,  and  one  who  can  always  do  it  is 
dangerous.  He  upsets  our  calculations  and  we  have  to 
beware  of  him." 

Marcus  laughed.  "  You  flatter  me,  Delphium.  I 
am  not  so  clever  as  you  think  me.  Cethegus  is  the 
man  of  keen  and  nimble  wit." 

*  Thank  you,  Marcus,"  said  Cethegus  who  was  sit 
ting  near  by.  "  In  that  case  I  will  put  my  mind  on 
the  fair  Unknown  and  guess  who  she  is." 

"  Do  so  by  all  means!  "  replied  Marcus.  "  I  hope 
you  will  be  successful  and  tell  me,  for  I  don't  know 
myself.  I'm  going  now,  Delphium,"  he  added. 
*  The  mood  of  your  visitors  to-night  does  not  tempt 
me  to  linger.  I  think  I  will  visit  Pluto's  Cave  and  see 
if  I  can  find  anything  to  amuse  me  there.  Will  you 
go  with  me,  Milo?  " 

"  Not  to-night,  Marcus.  I'm  in  a  lazy  mood  and  I 
find  myself  too  comfortable  here." 

"  I'm  not  altogether  flattered,  Marcus,  that  you  pre 
fer  Pluto  to  me,"  said  Delphium.  "  Perhaps  it  is 
Proserpine  that  you  expect  to  see,  though  I  don't  re 
member  whether  this  is  her  season  for  being  below 
ground  or  not.  If  you  do  see  her,  pray  tell  her  that 
though  I  have  heard  she  is  beautiful,  I  don't  like  her 
lodgings  and  I  am  in  no  hurry  to  make  her  acquaint 


ance." 


;t  I  have  an  idea,"  exclaimed  Cethegus.  "  Why 
may  not  Proserpine  be  the  strange  lady  who  has  cap 
tivated  Marcus?  He  may  have  run  across  her  as  she 
was  making  one  of  those  occasional  trips  between 


n6         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

Hades  and  Olympus.  To  be  sure  this  midsummer 
time  would  not  be  the  regular  date  for  the  lady's  pass 
age.  Don't  you  remember,  Delphium,  that  she 
spends  the  summer  season  with  her  mother  and  the 
winter  months  with  Pluto?  But  no  doubt  Pluto  takes 
it. hard  that  his  married  life  should  be  so  interrupted. 
I  always  wondered  that  he  consented  to  the  arrange 
ment  at  all.  Probably  he  sends  for  her  now  and  then 
when  his  head  aches  or  he  wants  to  hear  the  latest  gos 
sip  from  Olympus.  Yes,  I  think  it  is  extremely  likely 
that  Marcus  ran  across  her  while  she  was  making  a 
special  journey  down  to  Hades  to  comfort  her  pining 
spouse;  and  that  is  why  he  can  not  tell  us  who  the  fair 
nymph  is  that  has  cast  such  a  spell  upon  him.  Of 
course  he  would  not  recognize  her.  We  have  not  any 
of  us  as  intimate  an  acquaintance  with  the  lady  as  we 
shall  have  some  day." 

This  sally  drew  a  laugh  from  all,  the  company  tak 
ing  a  slightly  malicious  pleasure  in  making  merry  at 
Marcus'  expense;  for  they  were  a  little  resentful  of 
his  refusal  to  gratify  their  curiosity  about  the  Un 
known.  Marcus  himself  smiled  good-naturedly  and 
was  turning  to  leave  the  room  when  Delphiurn  de 
tained  him  with  the  query, 

"  But  tell  me,  pray,  where  you  are  really  going, 
Marcus.  Pluto's  Cave  suggests  Hades,  but  I  don't 
suppose  you  are  actually  on  your  way  there." 

1  You  know  the  place  but  not  by  that  name.  It's 
a  room  where  the  gladiators  drink." 

"  How  came  you  to  give  it  such  a  name?  " 

"  Ask  Cethegus.     It  was  his  invention." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         117 

"  Oh,"  said  Cethegus  without  waiting  to  be  ques 
tioned,  "because  it's  a  beastly,  evil-smelling  hole;  and 
the  crew  that  haunt  it,  those  gladiator  friends  of  Mar 
cus,  are  all  sure  to  be  killed  very  soon  and  take  perma 
nent  lodgings  with  Pluto." 

"  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  say  that  Hades  has  a  bad 
smell,"  remarked  Curio.  "  It  would  get  into  the  food. 
How  do  you  know  anything  about  it?  Perhaps  you 
are  the  one  who  has  been  seeing  Proserpine  and  get 
ting  information  out  of  her." 

"  No,"  replied  Cethegus,  "  I  have  never  had  the 
honor  of  meeting  her;  but  I  am  sure  her  habitation  is 
not  fragrant  and  inviting.  Don't  they  say  that  the 
birds  drop  dead  when  they  fly  over  the  entrance?  " 

"  Why  do  you  go  to  such  a  place,  Marcus?"  in 
quired  Delphium.  "  Those  gladiators  must  be  a 
coarse,  unclean  and  disagreeable  set  of  men." 

"Well  said,  Delphium!"  cried  Cethegus.  "They 
are  indeed  a  sorry  and  disgusting  lot;  but  Marcus 
seems  to  like  them." 

"  Yes,"  said  Marcus.  "  I  like  men  who  face  death 
and  have  no  fear  of  it." 

"  Oh,  the  animals  in  the  arena  do  that." 

"  True,  but  they  do  not  know  that  they  are  facing 


it." 


'  Well,  what  are  these  gladiators  but  animals?  " 
"  Some  are  brutes,  it  is  true.     Some  have  the  hearts 

and  feelings  of  men." 

"  Styrax    the    Thracian    doesn't,"    observed    Milo. 

u  He  is  a  murderous  fellow.     Beware  of  him." 
"  He  is  more  like  a  wild  beast  than  a  man.     But 


n8         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

Hacho,  the  big  Phrygian,  has  intelligence  and  a  kind 
and  generous  heart." 

"  But  most  of  them  must  be  dull  and  stupid,"  said 
Delphium.  "  What  in  the  world  do  you  find  to  talk 
about  with  them?  " 

'  They  tell  him  sickening  stories  about  hacking  men 
to  pieces,"  said  Cethegus,  who  took  a  manifest  enjoy 
ment  in  giving  an  edge  to  his  comments.  "  Marcus 
couldn't  stand  it  if  he  weren't  a  born  fighter  himself." 

"  There  is  a  good  deal  of  bloodshed  in  their  talk," 
admitted  Marcus;  "but  their  accounts  of  the  battles 
they  have  taken  part  in  are  often  thrilling,  and  some  of 
them  while  hunting  have  had  stirring  adventures  which 
I  love  to  hear  about.  Many  a  poor  fellow  too  speaks 
of  the  home  he  has  left  far  away  in  a  manner  that 
rouses  my  sympathy." 

"  Who  serves  them?  "  Delphium  asked.  "  Do  they 
help  themselves  and  are  they  allowed  to  drink  as  much 
as  they  please?  " 

"  By  no  means.  If  they  were,  they  would  get  wild, 
and  mutiny  and  bloodshed  would  be  the  consequence. 
Three  waiting  girls  serve  them  and  three  cups  is  the 
allowance  of  each  man  for  a  single  evening." 

"  Wine  and  girls  to  serve  it,"  commented  Delphium. 
u  Quite  like  princes  they  live,  it  seems  to  me." 

"  Princes!"  said  Marcus  with  a  smile.  "Very 
stately  and  magnificent  princes  they,  who  have  to  fight 
and  be  killed  for  our  amusement,  and  by  way  of  com 
pensation  are  allowed  to  drink  a  few  cups  of  thin  sour 
wine  and  to  snatch  a  few  kisses  that  have  no  meaning 
or  affection  in  them.  Their  lot  is  to  my  mind  a  sad 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         119 

one.  They  have  to  work  hard  and  they  are  ruled  with 
a  rod  of  iron.  You  fancy,  perhaps,  that  they  learn  to 
enjoy  their  bloody  conflicts  before  the  multitudes,  but 
sometimes  they  have  to  be  driven  into  the  arena  with 
whips  and  hot  irons.  And  at  some  of  the  schools  they 
are  so  rough  and  unruly  that  they  are  kept  in  irons  a 
great  part  of  the  time.  But  that  is  not  the  case  at  the 
school  to  which  I  go  not  far  from  the  Porta  Salutaris. 
This  is  one  of  the  Emperor's  schools  and  is  under  the 
charge  of  Piso,  a  very  rigid  governor  but  a  kind- 
hearted  man  who  has  a  genius  for  dealing  with  these 
wild  fellows.  All  gladiators  are  well  fed  that  they 
may  have  the  strength  to  fight  with  spirit.  Not  all, 
by  any  means,  have  wine  to  drink.  The  room  which 
Cethegus  has  named  Pluto's  Cave  was  arranged  by 
Piso  to  give  these  brutalized,  hard-working  men  a  lit 
tle  comfort  and  solace.  It  is  a  big,  rude,  poorly 
lighted  place,  half  underground;  and  you  wrould  not 
think  it  was  badly  named  if  you  saw  it." 

"  But  how  do  you  get  admitted?"  Delphium  in 
quired.  "  Surely,  not  everyone  that  wishes  is  allowed 
to  visit  gladiators  and  drink  with  them." 

"  Oh,  I  know  Piso  well;  and  then  I  am  the  son  of 
the  Prefect.  Few  doors  in  Rome  are  closed  to  me. 
And  now  I  will  go  and  drink  with  these  princely  friends 
of  mine,  who  are  alive  to-night  and  may  be  dead  to 


morrow." 


HALF  an  hour  later  Marcus  found  himself  in  a 
low-ceiled  room,  about  fifty  feet  square,  lighted 
by  four  feeble  lamps,  one  of  which  was  placed 
on  a  bracket  in  each  corner.  So  deep  were  the  shadows 
in  the  obscurer  portions  of  the  apartment  that  it  was  not 
easy  to  discern  at  once  what  forms  or  objects  were  half 
hidden  there.  Irregularly  placed  about  the  room  were 
a  few  wooden  tables  and  chairs;  and  along  its  sides 
extended  a  seat  which  consisted  of  nothing  more  than 
a  board  supported  on  wooden  props  and  fastened  also 
to  the  wall.  In  the  side  opposite  the  low  vaulted  en 
trance  was  a  door  that  opened  into  a  small  inner  apart 
ment,  also  dimly  lighted  and  containing  several  casks 
of  poor  thin  wine.  The  door  was  kept  open,  but  by 
it  sat  a  single  soldier  charged  to  see  that  none  but  the 
girls  in  attendance  passed  through  to  the  inner  room. 
One  such  sentinel  was  enough,  for  a  century  of  soldiers 
was  within  easy  call. 

Marcus  found  a  place  on  the  broad  seat  close  by  the 
entrance  and  proceeded  to  make  his  eyes  familiar  with 
the  obscure  light  and  to  see  what  was  passing.  Near 
him  he  was  pleased  to  observe  Hacho,  the  big  Phry 
gian,  with  whom  he  exchanged  a  handshake  and  a 
hearty  greeting. 

"  Ah,  Hacho,  good  friend!  I  scarcely  made  you 
out  in  the  darkness.  And  you  are  always  so  quiet  and 

120 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         121 

still.     Have  you  had  your  wine?  " 

"  Not  yet,  master." 

"  Then  come  to  one  of  the  tables  with  me,  and  we 
will  drink  together." 

They  seated  themselves  at  a  table  near  by.  Mar 
cus  clapped  his  hands  and  one  of  the  young  women 
came  promptly  to  serve  them.  Hacho  handed  her  a 
thin,  rudely  stamped  metal  disc,  three  of  which  were 
given  to  each  one  of  the  gladiators  who  were  allowed 
on  any  particular  evening  to  seek  this  poor  make-shift 
for  a  resort  of  pleasure.  Marcus,  however,  needed 
no  disc.  He  was  a  familiar  figure  here  and  his  father's 
office  and  authority  were  well  understood. 

Wine  was  brought  them  in  two  wooden  cups.  As 
they  drank  they  pledged  each  other,  Hacho  employing 
the  gladiators'  well  known  formula,  *  Doomed  to  die, 
I  give  you  greeting.' 

"  No,  no,  Hacho!  Don't  say  that!"  exclaimed 
Marcus.  '  Those  big  strong  arms  of  yours  have  car 
ried  you  through  many  a  hard  fight  safe  and  sound, 
and  they  will  do  it  yet  for  many  and  many  a  day. 
Why,  I  don't  believe  there  is  a  man  living  who  could 
get  the  better  of  you." 

"  I'm  thinking  you  might  do  it  yourself,  good  mas 
ter." 

"I?  Nonsense,  Hacho!  I  haven't  your  strength 
or  skill." 

"  Perhaps  not  my  strength,  master,  though  you  are 
better  put  together  than  I,  even  if  not  so  large.  But 
your  skill  is  greater  than  mine." 

"  No,  no !     You  flatter  me,  Hacho.     You  have  had 


122         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

such  a  long  experience  in  the  use  of  every  weapon  that 
you  know  many  a  trick  I  am  ignorant  of." 

'  Well,  at  any  rate,  my  time  is  bound  to  come  be 
fore  very  long,  master.  Every  man  is  sure  to  meet 
his  better  in  the  end." 

"  Shall  you  be  glad  or  sorry  when  that  time  comes, 
Hacho?" 

"  Not  very  sorry,  good  master.  Life  is  sweet,  but 
it  isn't  really  living  to  fight  men  and  kill  them.  Ah,  I 
always  feel  so  badly  when  the  people  hold  their  thumbs 
down  and  I  have  to  put  a  brave  man  to  death.  Often 
do  I  wish  I  was  back  in  my  Phrygian  mountains." 

;(  I  wish  with  all  my  heart  you  were,  my  good  brave 
Hacho." 

They  said  no  more.  Hacho  was  by  nature  reticent. 
Marcus,  who  could  talk  with  almost  anyone,  would 
have  drawn  him  out,  but  his  listless  mood  was  still 
upon  him.  His  visit  to  Delphium's  had  not  shaken  it 
off.  He  had  indeed  come  to  this  gathering  place  of 
rough  and  savage  characters  in  the  hope  that  some 
thing  might  occur  that  would  stir  his  blood.  And  he 
was  not  to  be  disappointed.  His  spirits  were  effec 
tually  roused  before  the  evening  was  over. 

Relapsing  into  silence,  he  looked  carefully  about  him 
and  noted  all  who  were  in  the  room  and  what  they 
were  doing.  About  a  dozen  gladiators  were  present, 
not  more  than  that  number  being  allowed  to  come  on 
one  evening,  as  a  safeguard  against  brawls  and  uproar. 
There  was,  accordingly,  a  lack  of  that  stir  and  tension 
that  are  sure  to  come  when  many  rude  and  boisterous 
spirits  are  crowded  together.  The  scene  was,  indeed, 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         123 

rather  a  dull  and  depressing  one.  In  spite  of  the 
warm  July  weather,  the  men  had  been  drilled  and 
worked  severely;  and,  wearied  with  their  exertions, 
several  were  fast  asleep.  They  lay  at  full  length  on 
the  broad  seat,  snoring  loudly.  These  had  had  their 
three  cups  of  wine  and  for  them  the  pleasure  and  the 
special  interest  of  the  evening  was  ended. 

But  at  a  table  not  far  from  Marcus  five  were  en 
gaged  in  earnest  conversation,  and  their  gestures 
showed  that  a  man  who  sat  at  a  little  distance  from 
them,  near  the  entrance  to  the  store  room,  was  to  some 
extent  the  subject  of  their  talk.  Looking  intently 
through  the  gloom  and  the  shadows,  Marcus  perceived 
that  this  was  no  other  than  Styrax,  the  brutal  Thracian, 
against  whom  he  had  been  warned.  Like  all  the  other 
gladiators  present,  he  was  as  scantily  clothed  as  decency 
allowed;  and  even  through  the  obscurity  Marcus  could 
not  but  note  the  air  of  ferocity  and  the  enormous  brute 
strength  of  the  man.  Being  quite  familiar  with  the  fel 
low's  features,  he  could  picture  what  he  could  not 
clearly  discern  and  could  see  mentally  how  his  small 
fierce  eyes,  his  thick  nose  and  lips,  his  retreating  fore 
head  and  protruding  chin  consorted  with  his  bull  neck 
that  was  well  revealed  by  his  closely  cropped  red  hair. 
Nor  did  the  limbs  and  body  belie  the  animal  aspect  of 
the  neck  and  face.  The  Thracian  was  short,  massive, 
thick-chested  and  broad-shouldered,  with  arms  that 
were  long  for  a  man  of  his  stature  and  enormously 
strong. 

Always  ill-natured,  he  had  taken  his  present  seat,  as 
Marcus  soon  saw,  for  a  spiteful  and  malicious  purpose. 


i24         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

He  was  so  near  the  doorway  of  the  wine  room  that 
every  girl  who  went  there  to  fill  a  cup  from  the  jars 
had  to  pass  within  his  reach;  and  each  one  that  did  so 
received  some  annoyance  from  him.  The  girls  were 
coarse,  large-limbed  creatures,  with  sensuous  faces, 
who,  if  they  were  at  all  decently  treated,  really  liked 
the  life  they  were  leading.  Indeed,  they  were  selected 
from  the  various  nationalities  who  made  up  the  Roman 
populace,  for  that  very  reason.  To  them  a  gladiator 
was  a  hero,  and  to  be  kissed  and  praised  by  one  was 
a  pleasing  attention  and  nothing  more  than  a  natural 
reward  for  the  service  rendered  in  bringing  the  ordered 
cup  of  wine.  But  the  attentions  of  Styrax  were  by  no 
means  gratifying.  As  they  went  by  he  pinched  their 
legs  and  arms,  slapped  them  so  that  the  noise  re 
sounded  through  the  apartment,  pulled  their  hair,  and 
if  he  kissed  one  of  them  he  contrived  to  put  his  arm 
round  her  at  the  same  time  and  tickle  her  so  as  to 
make  her  scream  with  misery.  One  of  the  bolder 
girls  became  so  exasperated  that  she  forestalled  him 
by  a  quick  and  unexpected  movement  as  she  approached 
him,  and  gave  him  a  sounding  slap  on  the  ear;  but  he 
uttered  such  a  growl  of  wrath  and  glared  so  fiercely 
at  her  that  she  ran  frightened  into  the  wine  room;  and 
no  one  after  that  dared  to  retaliate  when  persecuted. 
Wondering  why  the  soldier  present  did  not  stop  the 
petty  tyranny,  Marcus  went  to  him  and  asked  him  to  in 
terfere.  But  the  man  positively  refused.  "  I  am  here/' 
he  said,  "  to  see  that  these  fellows  do  not  get  into  the 
wine  room.  The  wenches  must  look  out  for  them 
selves.  This  kind  of  fooling  is  what  they  expect.  It's 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          125 

give  and  take  every  night  between  them  and  the  men." 

So  Marcus  went  back  to  his  seat  determined  to  stop 
the  ill-usage  himself  if  it  continued.  But  before  he 
had  decided  to  act,  his  ear  was  caught  by  words  that 
came  from  the  group  seated  not  far  away.  What  they 
said  was  so  significant  that  he  determined  to  catch  what 
he  could  of  the  conversation.  They  talked  in  low 
tones,  sometimes  in  whispers;  but  his  hearing  was  acute 
and  he  could  get  the  substance  of  what  they  said.  As 
they  talked  in  a  jargon  of  their  own  which  was  about 
half  Roman  speech  and  half  the  slang  of  criminals  and 
desperadoes,  they  assumed  that  Marcus  could  not  un 
derstand  them,  if  indeed  they  had  really  noted  him  and 
observed  who  he  was.  But  Marcus  had  mixed  with 
the  gladiators  enough  to  make  out  their  dialect.  The 
conversation  which  he  heard  ran  as  follows. 

"  He  has  a  foul  stroke  and  he  means  to  kill  us  all 
by  it,  one  by  one." 

"  Let's  kill  him  before  he  kills  us." 

"  How  can  we  do  it?  " 

"  Right  here  this  very  night." 

"  Not  where  he  is  sitting  now.     The  guard  would 


see  us." 


"  Right.  We  must  get  him  away  where  we  can  do 
it  in  the  shadows." 

u  But  we  have  no  knife.  Weapons,  you  know,  can't 
be  brought  here." 

"  I  have  one,"  said  the  man  who  spoke  first.  "  I 
stole  it  from  the  armory  and  hid  it  under  my  shirt. 
It  is  sharp  as  a  razor." 

"Will  you  stick  him?" 


126          THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

*  Yes,  if  the  rest  of  you  will  get  him  into  a  dark 
place  and  stand  all  around  him." 

"  I  don't  like  the  business,"  said  one.  "  It  means 
torture." 

"  No,  for  they  will  never  find  out  who  did  it." 

"  They  will  torture  all  of  us." 

;<  No.  What  do  they  care  if  one  more  gladiator  is 
dead?  What  are  we  for  but  to  be  killed,  any  way?  " 

"  I  think  we  had  better  do  it,"  said  one  who  seemed 
to  have  spoken  less  than  the  others,  "  but  not  here  in 
the  room.  You,  Harpages,  who  have  the  knife,  you 
lurk  behind  him  and  stick  him  just  as  he  gets  outside 
when  we  go  to  our  quarters." 

'Yes,  that  is  best,"  said  another;  and  one  or  two 
more  repeated,  "  That  is  best." 

Styrax  was  a  vile  brute,  but  Marcus  was  not  willing 
to  let  him  be  murdered.  He  was  considering  how  to 
foil  the  plan  of  the  assassins  —  whom  after  all  he  did 
not  blame,  for  they  seemed  to  be  acting  in  self-defense 
—  when  something  occurred  that  brought  him  to  his 
feet  for  prompt  and  instant  action. 

Not  satisfied  with  tormenting  the  serving  girls  in 
the  various  ways  mentioned,  Styrax  had  resorted  to  a 
new  method  of  causing  vexation.  As  one  of  the  girls 
passed  hastily  by  him  with  a  full  wine  cup  in  each  hand, 
he  thrust  out  his  foot,  and  tripped  her  so  that  she  fell 
heavily  to  the  floor,  her  face  and  clothes  splashed  with 
the  spilled  red  wine.  She  was  not  much  hurt,  but  her 
mortification  was  great;  and,  bursting  into  tears  as  she 
picked  herself  up,  she  ran  back  with  much  haste  and 
trepidation  into  the  store-room. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         127 

Marcus  had  no  longer  any  doubt  that  the  time  had 
come  to  act,  and  his  action  was  as  energetic  as  it  was 
prompt  and  unexpected.  He  ran  hastily  but  noise 
lessly  to  Styrax,  seized  the  surly  ruffian  before  he  had 
the  least  idea  of  what  was  coming,  lifted  him  from  his 
seat  and  dashed  him  with  great  force  to  the  floor. 
There  he  pinioned  him  and  called  Hacho  to  his  assist 
ance.  Hacho  was,  however,  already  at  hand.  He 
saw  that  trouble  was  coming  the  moment  Marcus  rose 
from  his  seat,  and  he  had  followed  at  his  heels  to  sup 
port  him  in  whatever  he  attempted  to  do.  Stronger, 
much  stronger  even,  than  Styrax,  he  easily  held  the  in 
furiated  bully  fast  while  Marcus  turned  to  the  aston 
ished  guard. 

"  Soldier,"  he  cried,  "  take  that  man  away  and  lock 
him  in  a  cell!  Hacho  will  give  you  all  the  necessary 
assistance.  To-morrow  he  will  be  dealt  with." 

The  man  began  to  demur,  but  Marcus  cut  him  short. 

"  Do  as  I  say,  or  you  will  be  dealt  with,  too.  You 
know  who  I  am.  My  father  never  spares  men  who 
refuse  to  do  their  duty." 

The  man  hesitated  no  longer.  He  placed  himself 
beside  Hacho  to  conduct  Styrax  away;  but  before  they 
could  move  the  burly  Thracian  he  turned  upon  Mar 
cus,  fairly  frenzied  with  wrath,  and  called  him  every 
vile  name  to  be  found  in  the  vocabulary  of  men  of  his 
desperate  type.  When  he  had  exhausted  the  language 
of  scurrilous  epithet,  he  added, 

"  You  shall  pay  for  this.  You  won't  fight  with  me, 
you  coward.  Oh,  no !  I  am  only  a  gladiator  and  you 
are  the  son  of  the  Prefect.  You  could  not  soil  your 


128         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

hands  by  crossing  swords  with  me.  I  understand  the 
wretched  excuse  you  would  trump  up  to  shield  your 
self,  you  white-livered,  black-hearted  patrician.  But 
no  man  lays  the  heavy  hand  on  me  without  paying  for 
it.  I'll  be  even  with  you.  I'll  have  your  heart's 
blood,  though  the  Prefect  and  the  Emperor  himself 
protect  you.  So  beware,  you  scurvy  son  of  a  vile  and 
scurvy  race !  " 

"  Take  him  away!"  said  Marcus,  quietly  but  au 
thoritatively;  and  he  followed  the  three  to  the  door  to 
make  sure  that  Harpages  did  not  skulk  after  them  and 
do  his  murderous  deed.  But  Harpages  and  his  band 
had  been  quite  overawed  by  what  had  happened,  and 
Marcus  had  saved  the  life  of  the  very  man  who  had 
showered  him  with  curses. 


XI 


MARCUS  could  under  almost  any  provocation 
retain  his  self-control.  He  had  not  been  be 
trayed  into  any  outward  manifestation  of  ex 
citement  when  Styrax  emptied  upon  him  the  vials  of 
his  wrath.  But  his  apathy  had  wholly  vanished.  Un 
consciously  he  walked  with  an  accelerated  step  as  he 
went  homeward,  and  the  disturbing  experience  through 
which  he  had  passed  was  active  in  his  mind.  The 
fighting  instinct  in  him  had  been  thoroughly  aroused. 
It  humiliated  him  that  he  had  been  obliged  to  turn 
over  to  military  discipline  the  man  on  whom  he  had 
laid  a  rough  hand.  He  was  swayed  by  the  feeling 
which  makes  every  man  of  spirit  dislike  to  deal  a  blow 
without  standing  to  receive  the  returning  buffet.  The 
man  was  only  a  gladiator;  "  But  what  of  that?  "  said 
Marcus  to  himself.  "  He's  a  man,  and  I  should  like 
to  face  him  as  a  man  with  sword  or  csestus  and  give  him 
the  satisfaction  of  a  man." 

His  homeward  path  carried  him  through  a  street 
which  connected  with  the  one  on  which  Delphium's 
house  was  situated.  As  he  came  to  the  point  where 
the  two  streets  met,  a  sudden  impulse  seized  him  to  go 
to  Delphium's  again,  refresh  himself  with  a  glass  of 
wine,  and  quiet  himself  by  thinking  calmly  over  the 
disturbing  experience  he  had  just  been  through  or  by 
relating  it  to  some  of  his  chosen  comrades.  Even 

129 


130         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

when  important  matters  had  to  be  settled  he  was  not 
apt  to  hesitate;  in  trivial  things  he  decided  instantly 
upon  a  course  of  action.  No  sooner  therefore  did  the 
inclination  to  make  a  second  visit  to  the  wine  room 
come  to  him  than  he  obeyed  it.  The  question  of  go 
ing  or  not  going  seemed  to  him  to  be  of  the  smallest 
consequence;  in  reality  it  was  the  turning  point  of  his 
life. 

It  still  lacked  two  hours  of  midnight  when  he  ap 
peared  at  Delphium's  door.  He  expected  to  find  his 
friends  still  sitting  at  their  cups.  They  had  however 
already  departed.  They  had  not  lingered  long  after 
his  own  withdrawal,  for  no  one  seemed  able  to  enliven 
the  flagging  spirits  of  the  company.  Accordingly, 
when  Marcus  brought  the  surly  Gugon  to  the  door  by 
his  knock,  he  was  told  that  the  wine  room  was  de 
serted.  Gugon  indeed,  refused  to  admit  him.  He 
declared  that  no  more  wine  was  to  be  served  that  night 
and  that  it  was  too  late  for  anyone  to  enter.  Marcus 
however  had  put  his  foot  in  the  slight  opening  which 
Gugon  made  when  he  opened  the  door  a  little  way,  and 
by  main  strength  he  now  pushed  his  way  in.  He  had 
no  clear  intention  in  his  mind  when  he  did  so;  but  he 
was  never  willing  to  be  foiled  in  anything  he  attempted, 
whether  it  was  kissing  a  flower  girl  or  overcoming  a 
churlish  door-keeper.  Once  inside,  he  looked  with 
quiet  amusement  at  the  humiliated  Gugon,  who  prided 
himself  on  his  strength  and  was  much  chagrined  that 
he  had  been  so  easily  worsted.  He  was,  indeed,  an 
ill-looking  fellow.  The  straggling  beard  that  covered 
his  face  was  not  heavy  enough  to  disguise  his  harsh, 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          131 

repulsive  features.  Even  a  glance  was  sufficient  to 
take  in  his  ugly  chin,  broad  coarse  mouth,  flat  nose  and 
small  black  piercing  eyes.  From  his  low  forehead  rose 
a  thick  short  growth  that  seemed  more  like  bristles 
than  human  hair  and  helped  to  give  his  face  its  min 
gled  expression  of  ferocity  and  cunning. 

"  Go  and  tell  your  mistress  I  am  here !  "  said  Mar 
cus,  after  gazing  at  him  for  a  moment. 

"  Go  and  tell  her  yourself!  You  seem  to  think  you 
own  the  house,"  replied  Gugon  snappishly. 

"  Don't  bandy  words !  Go  and  deliver  my  mes- 
sage!" 

"  That  I  shall  not." 

"  I  think  you  will." 

And  straightway  Marcus  seized  the  fellow's  right 
wrist,  carried  it  behind  his  back  and  twisted  it  till  he 
writhed  with  pain.  Strong  as  Gugon  was,  he  was  but 
a  child  to  the  man  who  towered  above  him. 

u  Promise  me  that  you  will  go  at  once  and  tell  your 
mistress  that  I  am  here!  " 

"  Let  go  and  I  will  see  about  it." 

Marcus  gave  the  wrist  another  twist.  Only  pride 
kept  Gugon  from  shrieking  under  the  torture.  "  I 
promise,"  he  said  sullenly  and  Marcus  released  him. 
His  face  glaring  with  hatred  and  his  tones  more  like 
those  of  a  snarling  wild  beast  than  a  man's,  he  said, 
'  You  shall  pay  for  this  some  time.  Yes,"  he  re 
peated,  shaking  his  fist  in  Marcus'  face,  "  you  shall 
pay  for  this,"  and  departed  on  his  errand. 

'  Two  enemies  made  in  one  night,"  said  Marcus  to 
himself  as  he  found  his  way  into  the  carousing  room. 


132         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

'*  It  is  well  that  I  am  strong  and  not  timid.  I  wonder 
how  they  think  they  are  going  to  pay  me  back?  I  be 
lieve  each  of  them  is  knave  enough  to  run  a  knife  in 
me  from  behind  if  he  gets  the  chance.  No  matter.  I 
can  take  care  of  myself." 

Gugon  would  hardly  have  resisted  Marcus1  entrance 
had  he  realized  how  welcome  it  was  to  his  mistress. 
"  My  opportunity  has  come,"  she  thought  when  she 
learned  that  Marcus  wished  to  see  her.  He  had  never 
before  come  at  such  an  hour  when  the  house  could  be 
kept  free  from  intrusion  and  the  languorous  quiet  of 
approaching  midnight  could  make  its  care-freeing  sug 
gestions  and  invite  tranquillity  and  repose.  But  with 
true  Greek  subtlety  and  with  the  self-command  that  is 
born  of  an  alert  and  scheming  selfishness,  she  deter 
mined  to  use  her  opportunity  wisely  and  not  abuse  it. 
Too  much  must  not  be  staked  on  a  single  hazard. 

Marcus  had  waited  for  her  in  the  larger  of  the 
rooms  where  wine  was  served.  Entering  it,  Delphium 
greeted  him  cordially,  yet  with  a  certain  dignified  re 
serve  that  seemed  to  suggest  surprise  that  he  had  sum 
moned  her  at  an  hour  when  the  wine  room  was  de 
serted. 

"  Is  it  wine  that  you  have  come  for?"  she  asked 
hesitatingly. 

"  Hardly.  I  thought  I  should  find  my  comrades 
here.  Not  finding  them,  I  might  have  gone  away  with 
out  entering  at  all  had  not  your  servant  Gugon  resisted 
me  so  stoutly.  I  do  not  like  to  be  baffled,  you  know." 

'  That  I  learned  years  ago  in  Sicily.  As  to  your 
difference  with  Gugon,  I  knew  of  that  without  your 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          133 

telling  me.  He  came  to  me  with  a  face  like  a  thunder 
cloud  and  he  muttered  fiercely  to  himself.  But  I  will 
soothe  him  and  he  will  forget  all  about  the  matter  to 
morrow.  He  is  my  watchdog,  you  know,  and  he  will 
growl  a  little  sometimes." 

"  He  growled  at  me  so  savagely  that  I  do  not  think 
he  will  forget  his  grievance  right  away.  But  let  him 
cherish  it.  I  care  not.  I  am  sorry,  though,  not  to 
find  my  friends  here.  I  had  a  stirring  time  at  Pluto's 
Cave  and  I  wanted  to  tell  them  about  it.  As  they  have 
gone  home,  suppose  I  tell  it  to  you." 

"  A  story?  That  would  be  charming.  But  I  can't 
listen  to  it  here  in  the  wine  room.  Come  back  to  the 
part  of  the  house  we  live  in.  I  have  a  cozy  little  apart 
ment  there  where  you  can  have  a  cup  of  rare  wine  such 
as  is  not  given  to  those  who  are  served  in  the  wine 
room;  and  there  you  can  tell  me  all  about  this  exciting 
experience  you  have  had." 

This  was  by  no  means  what  Marcus  had  expected 
when  he  had  forced  his  way  into  the  house;  but  he  was 
not  unwilling.  His  story  was  one  he  would  naturally 
have  preferred  to  relate  to  the  men  in  his  circle  of 
friends;  still,  he  was  so  eager  to  find  a  hearer  that  he 
was  glad  to  tell  it  to  Delphium.  So  he  followed  her 
readily  and  was  shown  by  her  into  a  room  which  Del 
phium  had  carefully  prepared  with  a  view  to  giving  it 
a  specially  inviting  character.  It  was  small  and  dain 
tily  furnished.  The  walls  and  the  ceiling  had  been 
tinted  pink,  but  the  frescoes  and  borderings  relieved 
them  of  bareness.  The  furniture  was  of  ebony,  but 
it  was  so  richly  inlaid  with  ivory  that  it  quite  lacked 


i34         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

the  somberness  that  naturally  belongs  to  that  somber 
wood.  It  consisted  of  a  table  in  the  center,  a  cabinet 
in  one  corner,  and  three  or  four  divans  and  chairs 
which  were  bountifully  strewn  with  soft  cushions  of 
variegated  but  subdued  colors  in  keeping  with  the  tone 
of  the  walls  and  the  ceiling.  Upon  the  floor  was  a  rug 
in  which  dull  pink  tones  predominated.  The  apart 
ment  was  lighted  by  four  lamps  which  stood  on  brack 
ets  placed  in  the  four  corners  of  the  room;  but  the 
light  of  each  was  softened  by  a  screen  of  thin  pink 
cloth,  which  made  the  room  seem  to  be  not  so  much 
illuminated  as  pervaded  by  a  faint  and  tranquillizing 
glow.  Everything  in  the  little  salon  suggested  dreami 
ness  and  rest. 

And  well  was  the  suggestion  borne  out  by  Delphium 
herself.  Her  abundant  coils  of  hair  showed  attrac 
tively  in  the  rosy  light  which  played  upon  her  clear 
and  delicately  tinted  complexion  only  to  give  added 
charm  to  its  natural  beauty.  Her  large  blue  eyes  al 
ways  had  a  soft  velvety  look  which  now  seemed  to  be 
enhanced  and  rendered  more  alluring.  Even  her 
smile,  which  always  had  a  radiating  quality  that  capti 
vated  her  admirers,  gained  now  an  added  sweetness. 
Lithe,  slender  and  graceful,  she  seemed,  as  she  moved 
airily  and  noiselessly  about  the  room  in  a  white  robe 
richly  embroidered  with  pink  and  green,  to  vitalize  the 
languorous  atmosphere  of  the  apartment  and  give  its 
slumberous  appeal  to  the  senses  a  magic  force  and  ef 
ficacy. 

On  entering  she  had  motioned  Marcus  to  a  divan, 
where  he  half  sat  and  half  reclined  among  the  cushions. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          135 

But  she  did  not  allow  him  to  begin  his  story  without 
ministering  further  to  his  comfort  and  increasing  the 
soothing  influence  of  his  surroundings.  Going  to  the 
cabinet  she  took  from  it  a  cup  and  an  amphora  and 
said, 

"  You  must  not  say  a  word,  Marcus,  till  you  have 
drunk  some  of  the  wine  I  spoke  of.  This  is  a  kind  I 
cannot  produce  for  those  who  come  here  to  drink  with 
their  friends.  They  would  never  be  satisfied  with  any 
other  after  they  had  tasted  this,  and  I  could  not  supply 
it  in  quantities.  It  is  an  old  choice  vintage,  a  little  of 
which  my  father  is  able  to  get  from  Grumio,  the 
dealer,  because  he  gives  him  so  much  patronage.  I 
don't  suppose  you  feel  excited  in  spite  of  your  even 
ing's  experience;  for  nothing  really  does  excite  you. 
But  if  you  are  even  a  little  perturbed,  drink  two  or 
three  beakers  of  this  and  you  will  feel  as  refreshed 
as  you  do  in  the  morning  after  a  long  and  dreamless 
sleep." 

She  handed  him  a  silver  cup  that  had  been  filled 
with  the  soothing  potion  to  the  brim.  Soothing  in 
deed  it  was,  and  for  a  reason  she  had  not  considered 
it  discreet  to  mention.  In  it  she  had  placed  a  small 
quantity  of  a  costly  drug  which  she  had  obtained  from 
a  merchant  from  Damascus  and  which  caused  a  delight 
ful  feeling  of  exhilaration  quite  different  from  that  oc 
casioned  by  ardent  spirits.  It  lulled  the  mind  into  a 
dreamy  complacent  activity,  and  though  soothing  was 
not  provocative  of  slumber  till  one  or  two  hours  had 
elapsed. 

Marcus  slowly  quaffed  the  palatable  liquor,  not  has- 


136         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

tening  to  drain  the  cup  and  begin  to  converse,  so  pleas 
ant  did  he  find  it  to  sit  in  quiet  and  enjoy  the  soothing 
influences  of  his  surroundings.  When  he  had  finished 
it,  Delphium  filled  it  again  and  said, 

"  Drink  one  more  beaker  and  then  begin.  I  am  get 
ting  very  impatient  to  hear  what  has  happened." 

Marcus  drank  the  second  cup  as  slowly  as  the  first. 
He  then  gave  an  unadorned  but  quite  vivid  account  of 
his  evening's  experience.  The  tale  was  sufficiently 
absorbing  in  itself,  but  it  was  listened  to  with  far  deeper 
interest  than  Marcus  suspected.  Delphium  was  bent 
on  using  the  incident  to  her  own  advantage  if  possible. 
If  by  giving  Marcus  valuable  advice  or  help  she  could 
render  him  her  debtor,  she  would  materially  advance 
her  scheme  of  proving  herself  necessary  to  him  and 
making  a  conquest  of  him  in  the  end.  By  the  time  he 
had  finished  she  had  decided  to  make  him  a  startling 
suggestion  —  a  suggestion  indeed  which  showed  invin 
cibly  the  selfish  character  of  her  love. 

"  No  wonder/'  she  said,  "  you  want  to  give  him  the 
satisfaction  he  craves.  That's  the  way  with  men  of 
courage  like  yourself.  And  it  would  be  a  good  thing 
to  put  the  beast  out  of  the  way.  So,  why  don't  you 
do  it?'5 

"  Why  don't  I  do  it?  Why  don't  I  fight  a  gladi 
ator?  Why,  simply  because  it  is  impossible." 

"  No,  it  is  not  impossible.  I  see  a  way  it  can  be 
done." 

"  Tell  it  to  me  and  I  shall  be  your  debtor  for  life." 

"  It  is  very  simple.     Meet  him  in  the  arena." 

"  In  the  arena?     Absurd!     You  don't  know  what 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          137 

you  are  saying.  I  am  a  Roman  citizen  and  the  son  of 
the  Prefect." 

"  No  one  need  know  that  you  are  a  Roman  and  the 
son  of  the  Prefect." 

"  But  they  must.  They  could  not  help  it.  I  am 
known  everywhere.  I  am  unmistakable." 

Delphium  shook  her  head.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  no 
body  need  know  you.  You  could  be  disguised." 

"How?" 

"  I  will  show  you." 

Leaving  the  room,  she  soon  returned  with  a  small 
cedar  chest  from  which  she  took  various  articles  by 
means  of  which  a  face  could  be  effectually  disguised  — 
beards  of  various  colors  and  small  well  secured  jars 
of  staining  fluids  and  cosmetics. 

'  You  could  wear  a  false  beard  like  this,"  she  said, 
holding  against  his  face  one  that  matched  his  hair 
fairly  well.  "  Or  you  could  color  your  face  and  neck 
and  arms  with  this,"  and  from  one  of  the  jars  which 
she  had  unsealed  she  poured  upon  a  bit  of  white  fabric 
a  few  drops  of  a  dark  shining  liquid.  As  could  be 
discerned  even  in  the  rosy  artificial  light,  the  fabric  be 
came  a  rather  dark  brown. 

'There!"  she  cried.  "By  using  that  you  could 
make  yourself  a  Nubian  or  perhaps  an  Egyptian." 

"  How  came  you  to  have  such  things,  Delphium?  " 
asked  Marcus,  his  mind  diverted  for  a  moment  from 
the  question  at  issue  by  pure  curiosity. 

Delphium  looked  at  him  archly  for  a  moment  and 
held  up  a  playful  warning  finger,  as  if  he  were  en 
croaching  on  forbidden  ground.  Then  with  a  smile 


138          THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

that  seemed  to  mean  that  she  could  not  resist  telling 
him  anything  he  wanted  to  know,  she  said, 

"  I  have  had  to  fight  my  way  in  the  world,  Marcus. 
I  can't  help  sympathizing  with  men  whose  lives  have 
been  nothing  but  a  fight,  even  if  it  is  the  law  they  are 
often  contending  with.  Once  in  a  while  such  a  man 
comes  here,  though  of  course  he  doesn't  sit  in  the  room 
where  you  and  your  friends  gather;  and  who  is  harmed 
if  I  help  him  out  of  a  scrape?  But  I  mustn't  be  telling 
more  of  my  secrets  to  your  father's  son." 

Marcus  smiled  as  he  answered, 

;'  If  I  told  my  father  about  all  the  shady  deeds  I 
have  seen  done  and  about  all  the  shady  people  who  do 
them,  I  should  have  been  murdered  in  some  narrow  al 
ley  long  before  this.  But  to  the  point.  What  you  pro 
pose  is  very  hazardous.  It  is  not  that  I  fear  anything 
for  myself.  Ever  since  I  learned  to  use  a  sword  I 
have  longed  to  use  one  in  grim  earnest  and  make  the 
red  blood  flow.  If  my  own  flows  also  and  my  life 
goes  with  it,  never  mind.  It  is  a  good  manly  way  to 
die.  No,  it  isn't  that  I  care  about.  It  is  the  risk  of 
being  known  that  makes  me  hesitate.  My  father 
would  never  get  over  the  disgrace  of  it.  He  would 
never  forgive  me.  And  I  would  not  grieve  him  for 
the  world." 

*  There  is  absolutely  no  danger  of  discovery,  Mar 
cus.  No  one  could  possibly  recognize  you  under  a 
beard  or  with  your  face  stained." 

"  I  won't  wear  a  beard,  any  way.  It  is  cumbersome ; 
and  besides,  the  gladiators  are  clean  shaven." 

"  Well,  the  staining  fluid  will  disguise  you  so  that 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          139 

your  own  father  would  not  know  you  three  paces 
away." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  would.  And  then  my  figure  would 
betray  me.  I  am  so  big." 

"  Some  of  the  gladiators  are  huge  men.  Your  size 
would  occasion  no  comment." 

Marcus  was  not  convinced.  Still,  the  action  was 
one  he  so  much  wanted  to  take  that  he  decided  to  set 
caution  at  defiance.  After  thinking  a  few  moments,  he 
said  with  decision, 

;<  I  will  do  it.  I  will  do  it  if  I  can  persuade  Piso  to 
help  me  out,  and  I  believe  I  can.  Yes,  I  will  do  it: 
But  may  Castor  and  Pollux  help  me.  I  do  not  shrink 
from  being  wounded  or  even  killed  in  a  fair  fight,  if 
only  I  am  not  hurt  so  as  to  be  discovered  and  bring 
humiliation  on  my  father." 

"  Castor  and  Pollux  won't  help  you.  It  is  your  own 
strength  and  skill,  and  above  all  your  wit,  that  will 
carry  you  through.  You  need  fear  nothing  in  a  fair 
fight.  But  the  question  is,  will  it  be  a  fair  fight? 
The  knave  has  a  foul  stroke.  That  is  the  only  thing 
that  may  undo  you." 

"  I  will  practice  fencing  with  the  gladiators,  and  I 
will  watch  Styrax  myself  and  also  consult  with  Hacho. 
A  foul  stroke  can  do  nothing  against  watchfulness  and 
skill.  I  am  not  afraid  of  it." 

"  How  soon  is  the  meeting  likely  to  come  off  if  Piso 
is  willing  to  arrange  it?  " 

''  Not  immediately.  I  must  practice  a  while  first 
and  master  all  the  tricks  which  the  best  swordsmen  use. 
There  may  be  some  I  haven't  learned  yet." 


1 40         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

Marcus  said  no  more.  There  was  nothing  he 
wished  to  add,  and  he  was  not  given  to  talking  for  the 
sake  of  making  conversation.  And  yet  he  found  him 
self  little  inclined  to  go.  The  soft  light,  the  comfort 
able  divan,  the  stillness  of  the  hour,  the  dreamy  mood 
imparted  by  the  medicated  wine,  and  the  subtle  and 
pervasive  charm  of  Delphium's  presence  as  she  quietly 
fanned  herself  or  moved  with  languid  grace  about  the 
room,  all  combined  to  generate  the  insidious  suggestion 
that  positive  action  of  any  kind  was  a  rude  and  un 
warrantable  interruption  of  a  prevailing  harmony. 
With  fine  artfulness  Delphium  ministered  to  this  mood 
which,  with  her  quick  penetration,  she  perfectly  under 
stood.  She  saw  that  Marcus  no  longer  wished  to  talk, 
and  she  refrained  from  making  any  further  observa 
tions  for  fear  that  she  might  seem  to  be  trying  to 
detain  him.  Yet  she  was  not  willing  to  sit  still,  for  if 
the  two  remained  seated  without  speaking,  Marcus 
would  quickly  realize  that  the  situation  was  an  unnat 
ural  one.  So  she  busied  herself  by  gliding  softly  about 
the  room  with  a  purpose  that  seemed  suggested  by 
the  objects  at  hand.  She  looked  at  the  lamps  to  see  if 
they  were  burning  properly.  Then,  after  seating  her 
self  and  plying  her  fan  for  a  short  time,  she  rose  and 
put  back  in  their  chest  the  beards  and  the  other 
articles  used  for  disguise.  That  done,  she  turned  her 
attention  to  the  cabinet  and  its  various  contents.  As 
there  remained  nothing  else  to  busy  her,  she  once  more 
resumed  her  seat  and  languidly  plied  her  fan. 

Many  men  would  have  lingered  a  long  time  before 
breaking  the  spell.  But  Marcus  was  never  self-indul- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         141 

gent,  and  mere  inaction  for  the  sake  of  the  gratification 
it  afforded  was  foreign  to  his  nature.  Very  soon  he 
seemed  suddenly  to  realize  that  he  was  doing  some 
thing  for  which  no  satisfying  reason  or  motive  could 
be  found.  The  thought  was  enough  to  make  him  act 
on  the  instant.  He  rose  abruptly  without  comment  or 
excuse,  bade  Delphium  a  hasty  but  cordial  goodnight, 
and  left  the  room. 

As  she  heard  his  retreating  footsteps,  Delphium  said 
softly  to  herself, 

"  He  will  come  again.  He  will  come  again.  I 
have  made  a  good  beginning." 

She  had  made  an  excellent  beginning,  but  she  did 
not  realize  how  difficult  it  is  for  the  adventuress  to 
make  her  star  shine  with  a  steady  and  unclouded  light. 
A  past  not  free  from  reproach  is  like  a  marsh  that  is 
ever  generating  noxious  vapors;  for  it  sends  up  mists 
that  not  only  obscure  the  sky  but  also  create  a  bewilder 
ing  fog  in  which  the  adventuress  herself  loses  her  way. 
Not  wholly  wise  had  Delphium  been  in  producing  the 
articles  of  disguise.  To  Marcus'  unsuspecting  mind 
they  had  carried  no  evil  suggestion.  He  had  indeed 
secretly  admired  the  proof  they  seemingly  gave  of  a 
kindliness  not  limited  to  the  pale  of  respectability. 
So  the  hasty  and  unguarded  act  was  not  likely  to  prove 
a  fatal  downward  step.  Yet  how  quickly  might  it  have 
called  forth  embarrassing  questions  had  Marcus  not 
been  so  generous  a  friend.  True,  Delphium  had 
dropped  all  relation  with  Euthro.  She  was  far  too 
shrewd  to  go  near  him,  for  she  knew  that  her  reputa 
tion  might  be  wholly  ruined  if  she  went  even  once  to 


1 42         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

his  evil  haunt.  But  some  of  the  lawless  spirits  who 
frequented  it  had  discerned  that  at  heart  Delphium 
was  their  friend.  Now  and  then  they  made  their  way 
to  her  wine  rooms,  and  these  were  the  men  she  admit 
ted  to  Marcus  she  sometimes  helped  out  of  a  scrape. 
The  plain  truth  was,  she  too  inevitably  gravitated  to 
ward  vitiated  natures  to  keep  wholly  clear  of  them. 
And  with  such  allies  and  such  a  past,  would  she  not 
some  time  take  unwittingly  a  step  that  would  hope 
lessly  compromise  her?  Though  the  production  of 
the  disguises  had  not  wrought  mischief,  the  impulse 
that  guided  her  in  this  case  might  in  the  end  lead  her 
to  do  or  say  some  thoughtless  thing  that  would  prove 
her  undoing. 


XII 

THE  following  morning,  as  Agrippa  was  eat 
ing   his    simple   breakfast,    Marcus    appeared 
and     joined     him     in     accordance     with     his 
usual    custom.     They    greeted    each    other    and    ex 
changed  a  few  commonplaces,  and  Agrippa  then  gave 
his  attention  afresh  to  an  important  document  which 
he  had  been  studying  when  Marcus  entered  the  room. 
But  he  did  not  become  deeply  absorbed  in  it,  for  he  ex 
pected    to    be    interrupted.     Thoroughly    acquainted 
with  his  son's  moods,  he  was  satisfied  that  Marcus  now 
had  something  on  his  mind.     He  was  not  surprised, 
therefore,  when  he  presently  received  the  inquiry, 
"  Have  you  ever  noted  Hacho,  the  big  gladiator?  " 
"  Yes,  I  have  watched  him  practicing  among  his  fel 
low  gladiators,  and  I  have  observed  him  also  in  the 
arena  where  he  does  not  seem  to  find  his  match.     But 
I  suppose  his  turn  will  come  some  day.     It  is  a  pity, 
too,  for  he  is  a  splendid  specimen  of  a  man." 
"  Why  couldn't  he  be  saved  from  such  a  fate?  " 
"  Why,    for    that    matter,    shouldn't    they    all    be 
saved?     I  am  sure  they  would  like  it.     But  unfortu 
nately  our  Roman  populace  thinks  there  is  no  amuse 
ment  equal  to  that  of  seeing  men  kill  each  other." 

Having  just  made  up  his  mind  to  enter  the  arena 
himself  and  contribute  to  this  bloody  sport,  Marcus 
naturally  refrained  from  making  strictures  on  this 

143 


144         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

form  of  entertainment.  The  subject  he  was  pursuing 
was  a  personal,  not  a  general  one.  Indeed,  his  own 
resolve  of  the  previous  evening  forced  him  to  take  a 
somewhat  apologetic  tone  toward  gladiatorial  shows. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  he,  "  a  good  many  of  them  love 
the  life.  They  are  rough  brutal  fellows  who  like  the 
excitement  of  it,  and  they  wouldn't  know  how  to  turn 
their  hand  to  anything  else.  But  some  of  them  are 
decent,  manly  men,  and  why  should  they  be  killed  in 
cold  blood  to  please  a  grinning  multitude?  Why  not 
save  the  best  and  bravest  from  such  an  ignominious 
end?" 

"  It  would  make  the  rest  ugly  and  vicious.  And 
how  could  the  line  be  drawn?  " 

"I  suppose  it  couldn't  be;  but  I  do  not  see  why 
everyone  of  them  should  be  doomed  because  it  is  hard 
to  pick  out  the  sound  oalcs  from  the  rotten  ones." 

"  In  other  words,"  said  Agrippa  with  an  amused 
smile,  u  you  think  Hacho  ought  to  be  saved  from  a 
gladiator's  death." 

"  Yes,"  said  Marcus,  smiling  also,  "  that  is  exactly 
what  I  have  in  mind.  I  know  him  well.  He  is  kind 
and  gentle,  and  he  has  a  good  heart.  He  is  worthy 
of  a  better  fate  than  to  fall  wounded  on  the  sand, 
look  up  for  mercy  and  see  a  great  throng  of  cruel  peo 
ple  holding  their  thumbs  down.  The  light  of  the  sun 
is  as  pleasant  to  a  gladiator  as  it  is  to  you  and  me." 

"  So  you  know  Hacho  well.  I  see,  then,  that  you 
still  keep  up  your  practice  of  going  to  the  gladiators1 
school  and  crossing  swords  with  the  men  there.  You 
must  be  a  master  of  the  art  by  this  time.  Sometimes," 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          145 

Agrippa  added  with  an  attempt  at  pleasantry,  "  I  al 
most  think  I  shall  see  you  in  the  arena  itself.  You 
have  the  soldier's  unconquerable  love  of  fighting.  But 
when  you  are  older,  I  will  send  you  against  those 
blood-thirsty  Germans.  They  are  always  going  to 
war  and  giving  us  trouble.  As  to  Hacho,  what  do 
you  really  know  about  him?  Is  he  always  well-be 
haved?" 

"  Always.  He  helps  to  quiet  the  unruly  ones.  He 
never  stirs  up  trouble.  Piso  would  speak  as  well  of 
him  as  I  do." 

"  Where  did  he  come  from?  " 

"  From  Phrygia." 

"  What  is  his  story?" 

u  He  was  captured  by  a  band  of  roving  soldiers 
while  he  was  out  hunting.  He  lived  with  his  father 
and  mother  and  his  brothers  and  sisters  in  the  moun 
tains,  where  the  people  seem  to  make  hunting  their 
only  occupation.  I  should  judge  from  what  he  has 
told  me  that  they  are  by  no  means  a  savage  or  cruel 
lot,  but  a  very  wild  one.  The  poor  fellow  did  not 
resist  when  the  soldiers  fell  upon  him.  He  couldn't. 
It  was  one  against  twenty.  But  he  once  said  to  me 
that  if  he  had  known  the  life  he  was  coming  to,  he 
would  have  fought  till  they  killed  him." 

'  What  is  to  be  done  with  him  if  he  is  released?  " 

"  He  ought  to  be  a  soldier,  he  uses  weapons  so 
well;  but  he  need  not  be  in  active  service.  Why  not 
make  him  a  special  body  attendant,  to  live  here  in  the 
house  and  wait  on  you  and  do  your  errands  ?  " 

u  And  yours   too  perhaps,"   said  Agrippa,   with  a 


14-6         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

shrewd  and  humorous  glance  at  Marcus,  for  he  knew 
he  was  reading  his  son's  mind  correctly.  "  Very  well. 
I  will  think  the  matter  over.  I  do  not  now  see  any 
objection  to  what  you  propose." 

The  following  morning  Marcus  and  his  father 
again  ate  their  breakfast  together;  and  as  they  did  so 
they  conversed  on  various  topics  suggested  by  their 
own  personal  experiences  or  by  the  larger  happenings 
of  the  time.  To  Hacho,  however,  Marcus  did  not 
refer;  for  he  knew  that  if  his  father  saw  fit  to  act  in 
the  matter  at  all,  he  would  act  without  further  prompt 
ing  and  would  be  displeased  if  the  subject  were  pressed 
or  urged  upon  him.  Immediate  action  he  had  not  ex 
pected,  for  Agrippa  was  one  of  the  busiest  men  in 
Rome.  He  was,  therefore,  surprised  to  hear  his 
father  say  as  he  rose  to  leave  the  room, 

;<  I  saw  Piso  yesterday  and  arranged  with  him  to 
have  Hacho  come  here  and  be  a  special  body  servant. 
But  he  hasn't  been  told  yet.  We  agreed  that  it  was 
best  to  leave  that  to  you." 

And  before  Marcus  could  express  his  appreciation 
of  this  prompt  attention  to  his  wishes,  his  father  was 
out  of  the  room. 

Without  any  delay  he  went  to  the  gladiatorial 
school,  found  Hacho  and  said  to  him, 

"  Hacho,  how  would  you  like  to  leave  this  place  and 
come  and  live  at  my  father's  house?  " 

"  I  should  like  it  better  than  anything  in  the  world, 
good  master,"  answered  Hacho,  his  eyes  shining  with 
joy  and  gratitude. 

"  Better  than  going  back  to  your  own  home  and 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          147 

people?" 

Hacho  grew  grave  and  thoughtful  and  seemed  to 
measure  his  words  as  he  replied, 

"  Perhaps  not  better  than  that,  and  yet  I  am  not 
sure.  I  do  not  know  what  has  happened  since  I  left 
my  home.  Some  of  my  people  may  be  dead.  Some 
may  have  gone  away.  And  it  is  all  so  rough  and  wild 
there !  I  should  miss  the  city  and  the  things  that  are 
done  here.  No,  master.  If  I  can  give  up  being  a 
gladiator  and  killing  men,  I  think  I  shall  be  glad  to 
stay  in  Rome." 

"  Then  you  will  be  glad  to  come  and  be  a  servant  in 
my  father's  house?  " 

"  More  glad  than  I  can  tell,  and  I  will  serve  you 
and  him  with  all  my  heart." 

The  change  was  made  that  very  day,  and  Hacho 
proved  so  willing  and  faithful  that  he  soon  became  in 
valuable.  But  how  great  a  service  Marcus  had  ren 
dered  to  himself  in  doing  this  act  of  mercy  and  kind 
ness,  he  was  not  immediately  to  learn. 


XIII 

IT  was  with  very  great  reluctance  that  Piso  fell  in 
with  Marcus'  scheme  and  consented  to  pit  him 
against  Styrax  in  the  arena. 

"Impossible!"  he  said  at  first.  "It  would  be 
known  and  I  should  be  degraded.  Your  father  would 
never  forgive  me." 

"  No,  I  should  disguise  myself  so  effectually  that 
no  one  would  recognize  me." 

(  The  gladiators  would  have  to  know  it." 

'  That  need  not  be.  It  could  be  contrived  that 
only  Styrax  should  know  whom  he  was  fighting 
against.  Besides,  the  gladiators  live  apart  by  them 
selves,  and  what  was  known  to  them  would  not  have 
to  reach  the  ears  of  others." 

"  It  is  very  unsafe.  Supposing  you  fall  and  are 
killed?" 

"  I  don't  mean  to  be.  I  am  going  to  send  that  brute 
down  to  Hades.  He's  a  pest  that  you  should  be  glad 
to  get  rid  of." 

"  He's  a  pest.  I  admit  that.  I  should  be  glad  to 
see  him  beg  for  mercy  from  the  populace  and  get 


none." 


( Very  well.  I  will  rid  you  of  him.  Have  no 
scruples.  No  one  will  ever  suspect  who  I  am.  Dis 
miss  all  fear  on  that  score  from  your  mind." 

So  Piso  unwillingly  consented,  overborne  by  Mar- 

148 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         149 

cus'  insistence  and  the  air  of  authority  which  he  easily 
wore;  and  it  was  agreed  between  them  that  about  a 
month  later  the  two  should  confront  each  other  in  one 
of  the  gladiatorial  contests  which  the  Romans  so  pas 
sionately  loved. 

Marcus,  accordingly,  began  at  once  a  most  vigorous 
course  of  training.  He  engaged  in  long  and  furious 
fencing  bouts  with  the  gladiators  and  exercised  even 
harder  than  usual  in  the  gymnasium.  Notwithstand 
ing  the  assurances  he  had  so  readily  given  to  Piso,  he 
was  himself  in  a  feverish  and  excited  state  of  mind. 
He  could  not  be  certain  of  the  outcome  of  the  fierce 
and  bloody  contest  he  was  to  engage  in,  and  he  found 
himself  much  more  harassed  by  the  fear  of  exposure 
than  he  had  thought  possible.  It  was  the  feeling  that 
he  had  put  up  a  barrier  between  himself  and  his  father 
that  troubled  him  and  preyed  upon  his  mind.  He 
found  it  difficult  now  to  be  natural  when  he  met  his 
father  at  the  morning  meal  and  at  other  times.  There 
had  never  before  been  what  could  be  called  a  secret 
between  them;  and  the  consciousness  that  one  now  ex 
isted  so  worried  him  that  he  was  sometimes  tempted 
to  abandon  his  project.  But  the  man  in  him  made  him 
unwilling  to  do  this,  as  such  a  course  seemed  to  savor 
of  cowardice. 

His  strenuous  exertions  at  the  gymnasium  were 
noted  by  his  friends,  particularly  by  Milo  and  Lentulus 
who  often  accompanied  him  there.  The  former 
asked  him  one  day  why  he  exercised  with  such  fierce 
and  persistent  activity;  but  Marcus  put  him  aside  with 
a  half-serious  comment  to  the  effect  that  his  big  body 


1 50         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

was  getting  too  bulky  and  he  had  to  work  hard  to 
keep  it  in  proper  condition.  But  Lentulus  was  not  so 
easily  satisfied.  He  possessed  a  discernment  almost 
as  keen  as  that  of  Marcus  himself;  and  his  uprightness 
of  mind  gave  weight  to  his  words.  There  was  no  one 
among  his  acquaintances  whom  Marcus  so  thoroughly 
respected;  for  Lentulus  was  absolutely  free  from  the 
vicious  forms  of  self-indulgence  that  were  almost  uni 
versal  among  the  young  Romans  of  that  time.  He 
never  drank  too  freely  at  banquets.  He  went  to  no 
evil  haunts,  and  he  even  kept  clear  of  Delphium's 
house  where  the  moral  atmosphere  was  at  least  misty 
even  if  not  charged  with  murkiness.  Familiar  with 
the  history  of  Greece  and  of  his  own  country  —  for 
he  was  a  reader  and  a  thinker  —  he  held  up  to  himself 
such  characters  as  Pericles,  Socrates,  Epaminondas 
and  the  Scipios  as  worthy  of  imitation;  and  the 
worldly-wise  but  clean  and  genial  philosophy  of  Hor 
ace  he  studied  constantly  and  unswervingly  followed. 
So  greatly  did  Marcus  esteem  him  that  he  would  take 
suggestions  from  him  he  would  take  from  no  one  else, 
and  for  his  judgment  he  had  ample  respect. 

Lentulus  had  noted  Marcus'  ardent  and  almost  un 
remitting  exertions  in  the  gymnasium,  and  he  knew 
that  the  explanation  Milo  had  elicited  was  pure  eva 
sion.  So  the  very  next  day  he  questioned  Marcus 
quite  searchingly  as  they  sat  together  after  a  season 
of  vigorous  exercise  with  the  pila;  and  Marcus  told 
the  whole  story  after  first  binding  his  friend  to  secrecy. 

!<  I  wouldn't  do  it,  Marcus,"  said  Lentulus,  slowly 
shaking  his  head.  "  It  is  hazardous  and  it  is  needless. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          151 

Your  indifference  to  the  actual  danger  I  understand 
and  appreciate,  but  the  very  thing  you  fear  is  likely  to 
come  about.  If  you  are  worsted,  your  father  will 
know  all;  and  he  is  too  proud  to  get  over  the  humilia 
tion  of  having  his  son  classed  with  the  gladiators." 

"  But  I  shan't  get  worsted.  I  am  more  than  a 
match  for  that  brute  of  a  Thracian." 

"  In  bodily  strength,  in  intelligence,  and  in  ordinary 
skill  at  the  fence,  yes.  But  I  still  think  the  odds  are 
with  Styrax.  Actual  experience  in  the  arena  teaches 
a  man  a  hundred  tricks  that  mere  practice  cannot  give. 
And  in  a  fight  to  the  death  I  believe  that  fellow's 
animal  cunning  is  worth  more  than  your  cleverness  and 
quickness;  for  your  powers  of  mind  will  not  find  their 
fit  opportunity  in  such  a  low  test  of  skill  and  courage." 

4  You  underrate  me,  Lentulus,"  said  Marcus  with  a 
careless  laugh.  "  Mind  is  and  must  be  superior  to 
brute  force,  and  I  have  the  force  also  as  well  as  the 
higher  intelligence.  The  truth  is,"  he  added  in  a  tone 
of  playful  raillery,  "  I  am  Ajax  and  Ulysses  all  in  one, 
and  I  can't  fail  to  win." 

'  Well,  be  wary  at  any  rate  and  look  out  for  that 
foul  stroke  of  his." 

"  I  don't  believe  he  has  any  and  Piso  doesn't  think 
so  either.  It's  mere  brag  to  frighten  the  other  men." 

''  I  doubt  it.  I  suspect  he  will  make  a  tricky  at 
tempt  to  get  at  an  unprotected  part  of  the  body.  Re 
member  that  and  be  on  your  guard." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  will  watch  him  carefully  and  be  ready 
to  meet  all  his  feints  and  thrusts.  I  am  quick  of  eye 
and  quick  of  limb.  If  he  tries  to  get  at  me  in  any  foul 


152         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

or  unfair  way,  I  shall  foil  him.     Be  sure  of  that." 

"But  it  is  all  so  needless!  The  man  should  be 
killed,  but  you  ought  not  to  be  the  one  to  kill  him.  It's 
a  dirty  job  and  not  one  for  you  to  soil  your  hands 
with.  As  for  your  feeling  that  you  owe  him  a  chance 
to  get  even  with  you  because  you  laid  rough  hands 
upon  him,  that  is  sheer  folly.  Does  the  centurion 
who  flogs  a  soldier  feel  bound  to  stand  up  against  him 
afterwards  with  sword  and  shield  in  order  to  make 
amends?  " 

"  Ah,  you  haven't  the  love  of  battle  in  you,  and  you 
can't  understand  how  I  feel.  I  have  mingled  freely 
with  these  men,  crossed  swords  with  them  and  drunk 
with  them.  I  have  not  met  them  as  an  officer  to  order 
them  about,  but  as  a  man  who  had  the  love  of  fight  in 
him  and  who  liked  to  go  round  among  them  just  be 
cause  fighting  is  their  trade.  The  fellow  was  brutal 
and  rough  and  I  laid  him  sprawling  for  it.  I  didn't 
do  it  as  having  authority,  but  simply  because  I 
wouldn't  stand  by  and  see  the  ruffian  use  his  coarse 
strength  against  the  girls  who  couldn't  defend  them 
selves.  He  called  me  a  coward  because  I  had  him 
locked  up  instead  of  fighting  it  out  with  him.  I  want 
to  show  him  that  I  am  all  ready  to  fight  it  out,  man  to 


man." 


'  Well,  be  watchful  and  see  that  he  doesn't  run  a 
knife  into  you  while  you  are  fencing  with  some  other 
gladiator.  I'll  protest  no  more,  for  I  see  that  your 
mind  is  made  up." 

'  Yes,  it  is  made  up.  The  truth  is,  I  want  the  ex 
citement  of  it.  I  find  life  rather  tame.  I  wasn't 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          153 

made  to  spend  my  time  at  gymnasiums  and  banquets, 
or  to  keep  steady  as  you  do  by  reading  Horace.  You 
and  he  would  have  had  a  rare  time  together  at  his 
humdrum  Sabine  Farm,  but  I  should  have  led  a  dull 
and  weary  existence  there.  I  want  to  do  things,  not 
to  sit  down  and  see  others  do  them  and  then  talk  them 
over  with  my  friends.  The  blood  boils  and  riots  in 
my  veins.  You  can't  imagine  how  I've  longed  to  rush 
down  into  the  arena  myself  and  fight  when  I've  seen 
the  gladiators  at  their  wild  and  bloody  work.  Yes,  I 
crave  stir  and  tumult  and  conflict,  anything  to  fire  the 
brain  and  make  the  pulses  leap.  But  I  can't  do  the 
vile,  wanton  things  that  the  youths  of  Rome  are  doing 
all  around  us.  The  fire  in  me  burns  fiercely,  but  I 
don't  care  to  feed  it  with  the  stuff  that  will  make  it 
flare  up  for  a  little  while  and  then  go  out  in  smoke 
that  has  an  evil  smell  and  leaves  nothing  behind  it  but 
ashes." 

'*  Why  aren't  you  on  one  of  our  frontiers,  fighting 
the  barbarians?  " 

;c  I  really  ought  to  be.  Perhaps  before  very  long 
I  shall  be.  I  have  suggested  it  to  my  father  once  or 
twice,  but  he  doesn't  seem  to  think  the  time  has  come 
for  it  yet.  Strong  and  self-controlled  as  he  is,  I  be 
lieve  he  can't  quite  make  up  his  mind  to  part  with  me. 
If  he  thought  I  should  get  into  mischief  here  and  do 
evil  or  disgraceful  things,  you  can  be  sure  he  would 
send  me  to  one  of  our  outposts  without  a  moment's 
hesitation.  But  he  knows  very  well  that  though  I 
often  go  where  the  pots  of  mischief  are  boiling,  I  don't 
drink  any  of  the  foul  broth.  He  and  I  have  had  many 


154          THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

a  talk  about  that.  I'm  inclined  to  think  he  wants  me 
to  take  up  his  work  sometime  and  govern  this  city  as 
he  is  governing  it  now;  and  he  believes  all  the  knowl 
edge  I  am  getting  of  its  shady  haunts  and  the  men 
and  women  that  seek  them  will  be  of  great  value  to 
me  when  I  am  in  authority.  Before  I  take  an  office 
under  him,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  a  year  or  two  in 
camp;  but  that  can  come  by  and  by.  Meanwhile,  here 
I  am  in  the  old  city  that  Romulus  founded,  making  a 
part  of  its  gay  and  merry  life  but  doing  nothing  that  is 
really  worth  doing,  nothing  that  is  better  than  what 
these  fops  and  giddy  drinkers  do  all  around  me  every 
day." 

14  Don't  be  impatient,  Marcus.  You  are  only  twen 
ty-one  and  in  good  time  you  will  do  something  that 
will  not  be  soon  forgotten.  Perhaps  it  will  be  in 
war;  perhaps  it  will  be  right  here  in  the  city.  But 
you  must  keep  this  wild  feverish  mood  of  yours  as 
quiet  as  you  can  till  you  have  met  that  dirty  ruffian 
and  got  the  matter  off  your  mind.  Join  Milo  and  the 
rest  of  us  and  go  and  see  the  play  to-morrow.  It's  a 
pleasing  one,  the  *  Rudens  of  Plautus.'  It's  to  be 
given  at  the  Theater  of  Marcellus." 

*  Very  good.  I  will  join  you.  I  suppose  I  shan't 
see  you  at  Delphium's  to-night." 

"  No.  Fruit  that  is  overripe  is  better  than  what  is 
spoiled;  but  I  have  never  cared  for  it." 

"  Fruit  that  is  overripe?  Why  do  you  use  such  a 
phrase  in  speaking  of  Delphium?  She  is  simply  mak 
ing  an  honest  living  and  her  wine  room  is  always  de 
cent." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         155 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  against  Delphium,  and  her 
rooms,  I  have  no  doubt,  are  as  decent  as  they  can  be 
considering  what  reckless,  tipsy  youths  go  to  them 
night  after  night.  But  I  like  better  to  read  about  such 
merrymakers  in  Plautus  than  to  join  their  revels." 

"  Come,  come !  You  are  over-nice.  You  will  soon 
be  cutting  those  lively  friends  of  ours,  Bibulus  and 
Curio  and  Bibrax." 

"No,  no!  I  like  them  for  old  acquaintance'  sake 
and  I  laugh  at  their  follies.  They  help  to  make  our 
dinners  entertaining.  But  too  much  spiced  food  is 
cloying.  I  don't  want  it  at  every  meal  I  eat,  and  I 
don't  want  to  know  too  many  men  that  get  riotous 
over  their  cups." 


XIV 

NOTHING  occurred  to  make  Marcus  suspi 
cious  of  Delphium's  true  character  and  her 
wine  room  continued  to  be  the  resort  most 
attractive  to  him.  The  evening  that  followed  his 
conversation  with  Lentulus  found  him  there  with 
Milo,  Cethegus  and  the  rest.  His  mood  was  wild  in 
spite  of  Lentulus'  words  of  caution.  With  wonder 
and  admiration  his  comrades  noted  his  flow  of  spirits. 
Even  Delphium,  who  understood  as  they  did  not  what 
was  passing  in  his  mind,  was  not  free  from  astonish 
ment.  She  had  entered  the  room  as  if  by  chance  soon 
after  he  had  come  in,  having  been  informed  by  one  of 
her  maids  of  his  presence.  Through  these  servitors 
she  always  kept  herself  fully  acquainted  with  every 
thing  that  was  passing  in  the  public  rooms  of  her  es 
tablishment. 

"  Your  best  wine,  Delphium !  "  Marcus  cried  as 
soon  as  he  saw  her  enter.  "Your  very  best!  I  be 
lieve  this  stuff  was  made  from  rotten  grape  skins  with 
some  wretched  dye  poured  in  to  give  it  thickness  and 
color.  Come,  humor  us  to-night!  We  may  not  be 
here  to-morrow.  We  are  all  on  our  way  to  Hades, 
and  what  poor  thin  beverage  that  churl  of  a  Pluto  will 
serve  us  no  one  can  say.  He's  a  shabby  fellow  or  he 
never  would  be  satisfied  to  live  in  such  a  rat-hole  of  a 
place." 

156 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          157 

"  Don't  be  so  gloomy,  Marcus!  "  said  Curio.  "  Fm 
not  going  to  Hades  to-morrow,  if  you  are.  Fm  going 
to  have  many  a  good  dish  of  turbot  and  capon  and 
drink  many  an  amphora  of  Delphium's  wine  before  I 
take  that  unalluring  journey.  I  don't  want  to  take  it 
at  all,  but  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  some  day." 

"  May  you  live  to  eat  capons  without  number  and 
drink  whole  cellars  of  wine!  Here's  a  health  to 
Curio,  friends;  and  when  he  crosses  the  Styx,  may 
Pluto  welcome  him  with  a  platter  of  fried  eels  in  one 
hand  and  in  the  other  '• —  ah,  but  I  can't  name  the  con 
tents  of  the  other  without  first  telling  you  a  story. 
While  Proserpine  is  still  sleeping,  Pluto  calls  her  one 
morning  — " 

'  You  are  getting  mixed,  Marcus,"  said  Cethegus. 
"  Aurora  doesn't  visit  Hades." 

'  You  really  must  have  visited  the  region  some 
time,  Cethegus,"  Marcus  replied.  "  You  are  the  one 
who  named  Pluto's  Cave  because  you  were  sure  the 
place  resembled  Hades;  and  now  you  say  there  is  no 
sun-rise  there.  But  we  really  can't  accept  any  state 
ment  of  yours  about  the  sun-rise,  above  ground  or  be 
low,  for  you  never  see  one." 

This  thrust  at  Cethegus'  well  known  habit  of  lying 
in  bed  till  noon  was  much  relished.  After  the  merri 
ment  it  caused  had  subsided,  Marcus  continued, 

"  At  any  rate,  there  is  a  time  for  rising  in  Hades, 
whether  it  is  morning  or  not;  and  as  it  draws  near  one 
day,  Pluto  wakes  up  Proserpine  and  says  to  her, 

*  Dear  daughter  of  Ceres,  you  must  get  up  and 
kill  your  pet  peacock.' 


158          THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

*  What,  Carissima,  that  I  have  fed  with  my  own 
hand?' 

*  Yes,  Carissima  must  die.' 

*  Does  Jove  require  this  sacrifice?' 

"'Jove?  Do  you  think  I  allow  Jove  to  meddle 
with  my  affairs  and  dictate  to  me  in  my  own  domain? 
No,  no!  He  may  do  what  he  likes  up  on  Olympus, 
but  I  am  king  down  here  in  Hades.  It  isn't  Jove  but 
Curio  that  makes  us  give  up  our  pet,  in  the  name  of 
hospitality.' 

'"  Curio?     Who   is   Curio?' 

"  'Have  you  never  heard  of  Curio?  Why,  he  is 
the  doughtiest  eater  and  the  most  accomplished  epicure 
in  Rome.  He  is  about  to  arrive  and  he  really  must 
have  the  best  when  he  comes.  We  shall  never  receive 
another  guest  who  would  appreciate  Carissima  so 
much.  So  your  pet  must  go !  ' 

'  You  understand  now,  friends,  what  dish  Pluto 
will  have  in  the  other  hand  when  Curio  makes  his  ap 
pearance  in  that  dimly  lighted  kingdom.  And  close 
behind  her  lord  will  come  Proserpine  with  a  beaker  of 
dark  rich  red  wine." 

"  Oh,  no,  Marcus !  Oh,  no !  You  are  surely 
wrong  there,"  cried  Caius.  "  That  will  be  for  Bibu- 
lus." 

"  For  Bibulus?  One  beaker  of  wine  for  Bibulus? 
No,  no !  They  know  him  better.  When  Bibulus 
arrives  there,  he  will  find  two  long  lines  of  ghosts 
waiting  for  him,  each  with  a  full  amphora  of  wine. 
And  Bibulus  will  march  slowly  down  between  the  lines 
and  empty  all  the  amphoras,  one  after  another,  as 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          159 

they  are  handed  to  him." 

All  laughed  at  this,  and  yet  the  laughter  was  not 
hearty  and  ringing.  Everyone  present  was  somewhat 
taken  aback  at  the  audacity  of  Marcus'  speech.  The 
Romans  of  that  day  had  no  robust  or  assuring  faith. 
Religion  lived  on  as  a  ritual  but  had  no  vitality.  With 
very  many  the  gods  were  nothing  more  than  names, 
and  these  young  men  at  Delphium's  had  not  yet  the 
slightest  element  of  real  devoutness  in  them.  Never 
theless,  they  did  not  feel  altogether  easy  and  com 
fortable  to  hear  dreaded  names  mentioned  in  such  a 
familiar  and  sacrilegious  way,  even  though  they  ad 
mired  the  wit  and  boldness  of  the  speaker. 

There  was  a  short  pause  after  Marcus  had  finished. 
Then  Milo,  who  had,  more  from  timidity  than  any? 
thing  else,  some  religious  scruples  left  even  if  they 
were  not  ingrained  convictions,  inquired, 

"  Have  you  no  belief  in  the  Gods  at  all,  Marcus? 
Do  you  think  that  Jupiter  and  Juno  and  Neptune  and 
Pluto  and  all  the  rest  are  nothing  but  names?  " 

"  I  believe  they  are  nothing  but  names  and  I  believe 
that  most  Romans  think  so;  only  they  are  not  as  hon 
est  as  Lucretius  and  do  not  dare  to  say  what  they 
think.  Did  you  consider  my  little  story  about  Pluto 
and  Proserpine  a  bit  shocking?  Well,  turn  to  the 
poets,  from  Homer  down  to  Aristophanes  and  our 
own  Ovid,  and  you  will  find  plenty  more  that  are  just 
as  free-spoken  and  a  good  deal  more  racy.  Some  day 
the  wit  will  rise  who  will  turn  the  whole  system  into 
ridicule  and  make  it  such  a  laughing-stock  that  men 
will  all  cast  it  aside  like  a  toga  that  has  been  worn  to 


i6o         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

tatters." 

"What  do  you  think  about  it  all,  Delphium?"  in 
quired  Cethegus,  out  of  pure  curiosity  to  see  how  a 
woman  like  her  would  meet  such  a  question. 

"  Oh,  I'm  a  Greek,"  said  Delphium  quickly,  "  and 
the  women  of  Greece  were  never  allowed  to  think. 
The  men  did  it  for  them." 

"  Seems  to  me  Aspasia  and  certain  friends  of  hers 
did  a  good  deal  of  thinking,"  replied  Cethegus,  with 
a  slight  emphasis  on  friends  and  a  searching  glance  at 
Delphium.  But  this  fling  at  the  women  of  her  class 
did  not  embarrass  the  astute  and  nimble-witted  Greek. 

"  I  believe,"  she  replied  unhesitatingly,  "  that 
Athens  did  have  its  golden  days  partly  through  the 
influence  of  Aspasia  and  her  friends;  but  not  all  men 
have  been  as  generous  to  woman  as  the  great  Pericles." 

u  But  Marcus,"  cried  the  dismayed  Caius  in  a  wail 
ing  and  distressful  tone,  "  I  don't  want  to  think  that 
there  are  no  Gods.  I  want  to  believe  in  Pluto  and  go 
somewhere  when  I  have  lived  my  life  here.  Hades 
may  be  a  pretty  poor  sort  of  a  place,  but  it  is  better 
than  nothing.  Don't  you  believe  in  it?  Don't  you 
expect  to  go  there?  " 

"  I  have  hopes,"  answered  Marcus,  "  but  no  belief. 
I  do  not  believe  there  are  Gods  on  Olympus  who  are 
able  to  rule  men  and  laugh  at  them  even  though  they 
do  not  lead  a  decent  life  themselves.  I  do  not  be 
lieve  an  angry  old  man  with  a  trident  ever  stirs  the 
ocean;  and  I  do  not  believe  we  mortals  are  led  down 
to  Hades  by  a  tricky  and  lying  God  to  meet  Pluto  and 
live  forever  in  darkness.  Why  should  men  like  Soc- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         161 

rates  and  Plato  go  down  into  a  dim  and  shadowy 
realm?  Why  should  they  not  go  up  into  the  light? 
Something  within  me  tells  me  that  they  do,  that  we  all 
do,  and  that  what  is  to  come  is  better  than  what  is 
here.  But  that  is  all  hope.  What  I  see  and  know  is 
that  Rome  has  lived  for  nigh  eight  hundred  years  and, 
spite  of  things  we  see  and  deplore,  is  greater  and 
mightier  than  ever  to-day.  You  and  I  shall  perish  but 
Rome  will  last.  We  are  sure  of  this  life  at  any  rate, 
and  every  Roman  knows  how  to  give  it  for  his  coun 
try.  A  man  can  be  as  brave  as  Socrates  was  when  he 
drank  the  hemlock,  no  matter  whether  he  goes  to 
dwell  among  the  stars  or  has  no  other  home  than  the 
urn  that  holds  his  ashes. 

"  But  what  strange  talk  is  this  for  an  evening  over 
the  wine  cups?  No  more  of  it!  More  wine,  Del- 
phium !  More  wine !  We  have  to-night.  We  may 
not  have  to-morrow.  We  are  all  going  somewhere,  it 
may  be  up  into  the  skies,  it  may  be  down  below  the 
earth,  it  may  be  into  the  funeral  urn  to  stay  there  for 
ever.  But  we  are  all  going.  You  did  not  dare  to  say 
you  would  one  day  die,  Caius.  Romans  are  brave, 
but  they  do  not  like  to  use  the  word  *  die.'  They 
leave  that  to  the  poor  gladiators  and  make  them  say  it 
before  they  fall  upon  the  sands  and  look  for  the  last 
time  at  the  light  of  the  sun.  But  we  are  all  gladia 
tors.  We  are  all  having  a  hand  to  hand  fight  with 
Death,  and  some  day  he  is  going  to  lay  every  single 
one  of  us  low.  So  I  give  you  the  gladiator's  greeting, 
Delphium.  *  We  who  are  doomed  to  die  salute  you/ 
Drink,  I  say,  to  Delphium !  Drink,  Curio !  Drink, 


1 62         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

Caius !  Drink,  Bibulus  !  Drink,  each  and  every  one  1 
Let  there  be  no  cowards  here  to-night!  She's  a 
woman,  but  she  may  make  the  best  and  bravest  fight  of 
any  of  us  and  still  be  living  when  Death,  the  tireless 
old  gladiator,  has  dealt  all  the  rest  of  us  a  fatal  thrust. 
So  here's  long  life  to  Delphium  and  a  merry  life  to  all, 
whether  we  die  to-morrow  or  live  to  totter  and  drivel 
and  know  no  other  joy  than  the  rich  red  flowing  wine! 
Drink,  drink!  I  say.  We  have  to-night  and  we  may 
not  have  to-morrow,  for  we  are  all  of  us  doomed  to 
die." 


XV 

THE  Theater  of  Marcellus,  which  was  situated 
not  far  from  the  Tiber  and  near  the  base  of  the 
Capitoline  Hill,  was  begun  by  Julius  Caesar 
and  finished  by  Augustus  twenty-seven  years  before  his 
death.  That  austere  but  by  no  means  unfeeling  ruler 
had  dedicated  it  to  the  memory  of  his  nephew  Mar 
cellus,  of  whom  Vergil  wrote  so  touchingly.  Into  this 
vast  pleasure  resort,  which  held  twenty  thousand  peo 
ple  under  its  canopied  top,  came  Marcus  and  his 
friends  the  day  after  the  hilarious  evening  at  Delphi- 
urn's  wine  room.  Interested  rather  more  in  watching 
the  audience  than  in  following  the  play,  Marcus  seated 
himself  far  from  the  stage  in  one  of  the  highest  rows 
of  benches.  Lentulus  and  the  others,  who  almost  in 
variably  followed  his  leadership  without  demur,  took 
their  places  beside  him.  They  had  purposely  come 
early,  and  from  his  commanding  position  Marcus  ob 
served  and  studied  the  mighty  human  throng  that 
poured  steadily  in  through  the  many  entrances  of  the 
theater.  It  represented  every  class  in  Rome  and  re 
flected  all  the  diverse  conditions  of  life  that  existed  in 
the  great  cosmopolitan  city.  For  Rome  first  in  the 
history  of  the  world  drew  within  her  walls  such  dif 
fering  human  elements,  from  lands  far  and  near,  as  to 
become  truly  a  metropolis  and  to  be  the  gathering 
place  of  all  the  nations  —  a  city  not  of  one  country  but 

163 


1 64         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

of  the  world,  a  cosmopolis.  From  her  palaces,  her 
stately  mansions,  her  crowded  tenements,  her  counting 
houses,  her  streets  and  squares  and  alleys,  and  even 
from  her  countless  dens  of  vice,  came  the  unending 
human  tide  that  filled  the  benches  of  the  capacious 
structure  of  stone.  Pleasure  had  become  the  god  of 
the  Roman  populace.  One  hundred  and  thirty-five 
days  of  every  year  were  devoted  to  amusement,  and 
every  opportunity  for  enjoyment  was  eagerly  wel 
comed  by  the  insatiate  rabble.  So  into  the  theater 
now  flocked  the  holiday  multitudes  to  satisfy  their  hun 
ger  for  recreation  and  excitement. 

Obeying  the  deep  human  instincts  that  are  eternally 
bringing  together  those  of  like  tastes  and  interests, 
the  people  as  they  came  in  took  their  places  among 
their  peers.  Small  indeed  was  the  group  that  gath 
ered  upon  the  tribunal,  or  raised  platform,  on  the  left 
of  the  audience;  for  this  was  reserved  for  the  Presi 
dent  of  the  performance  and  his  friends  when  not  used 
by  the  Emperor  himself.  The  Emperor  was  not  there 
on  this  occasion,  and,  just  before  the  performance  be 
gan,  appeared  Vipsanius,  who  was  a  wealthy  patrician 
and  a  Curule  Aedile,  with  a  few  favored  ones  whom  he 
had  invited  to  share  with  him  his  august  post  of  obser 
vation.  In  the  orchestra,  their  own  special  precinct,  as 
sembled  the  Senators,  who  maintained  their  state 
though  they  had  been  shorn  of  their  power,  and  who 
sat  in  their  white  togas  as  self-important  as  if  the  bur 
den  of  Empire  still  rested  on  their  shoulders.  Be 
yond  them,  in  the  fourteen  rows  of  the  great  cavea 
that  were  nearest  the  orchestra,  were  to  be  seen  the 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         165 

Knights,  many  of  them  broken  down  and  impecunious 
but  all  of  them  animated  by  a  pride  of  station  that 
gave  even  to  the  most  straitened  a  dignity  which  mere 
circumstance  could  not  destroy.  Higher  up  sat  the 
patricians,  wrhose  ranks  Augustus  had  recruited  not 
without  difficulty  and  wrho,  even  when  bloated  with 
wine  and  bestialized  by  shameless  living,  still  wore  the 
arrogance  of  the  privileged  man  who  deems  it  his  na 
tive  right  to  despise  his  low-born  fellows.  In  that  one 
of  the  great  wedge-shaped  sections  that  was  reserved 
for  their  sex  only,  sat  the  women,  whose  brilliant  cos 
tumes  gave  life  and  splendor  to  the  scene.  For  even 
though  the  glaring  noonday  light  wras  softened  by  the 
canopy  above,  their  flashing  jewels,  their  brightly  col 
ored  fans  that  were  waved  unceasingly,  and  their 
robes  of  brown,  pink,  orange,  crimson,  blue  and  green, 
caught  every  roving  eye.  But  more  pleasing  to  the 
modest  was  the  small  group  of  Vestal  Virgins,  who 
were  seated  in  the  raised  tribunal  that  was  on  the  right 
of  the  spectators  and  directly  opposite  to  that  which 
held  Vipsanius  and  his  friends.  For  here  indeed  was 
something  to  remind  the  Romans  that  the  austere  vir 
tue  of  their  fathers  had  not  yet  wholly  disappeared. 
Here  there  was  no  waving  of  gayly  colored  fans,  no 
brilliancy  of  garb,  no  wantonness  of  look  or  speech; 
but  purity,  reserve,  and  a  noble  womanly  dignity  which 
the  dissolute  manners  of  the  time  had  not  touched  or 
soiled. 

Still  higher  up  than  the  Knights  and  the  patricians 
sat  the  ranks  of  the  proletariat  —  noisy,  turbulent, 
made  wranton  by  idleness,  fawning  upon  wealth  but 


1 66         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

back-biting  the  very  patrons  whose  bread  they  lived 
upon,  coarse  of  manners,  foul  of  speech,  in  garments 
of  every  hue  and  every  shape,  and  some  in  rags  that 
preserved  only  the  mere  vestige  of  respectability.  And 
on  the  highest  tiers  of  benches  were  the  foreigners, 
not  too  few  or  too  insignificant  to  attract  notice, 
though  they  had  seated  themselves  in  this  retired  po 
sition  and  directly  opposite  the  stage,  where  they  were 
the  least  likely  to  be  molested  and  jibed  by  the  insolent 
Roman  rabble.  On  these  benches  there  were  to  be 
seen  Greeks,  keen-eyed,  curious,  and  plausible  of 
speech;  Hebrews  who  had  brought  even  from  Jerusa 
lem  all  the  power  to  acquire  and  the  power  to  endure 
that  has  ever  characterized  their  race;  Phoenicians, 
with  crafty  eyes  and  sensuous  faces;  Gauls,  fair  of  skin 
and  large  of  limb;  Egyptians,  Nubians,  and  other 
Africs  bronzed  by  scorching  wind  and  burning  sun; 
and  many  more  gathered  from  the  innumerable  lands 
and  climes  of  the  mighty  Roman  world. 

Marcus  had  not  placed  himself  and  his  friends 
among  those  of  his  own  rank  and  station.  For  a 
Roman  of  birth  and  position  he  was  strangely  indiffer 
ent  to  those  deep-seated  laws  of  caste  which  rule  with 
an  iron  tyranny  all  civilized  societies.  His  friends, 
with  perhaps  the  exception  of  Lentulus,  were  not 
pleased  with  their  surroundings.  Marcus,  in  the  same 
spirit  that  he  showed  in  consorting  with  gladiators, 
glanced  with  amusement  at  the  ill-kempt  figures  he  saw 
nearest  him  and  gazed  with  real  interest  and  curiosity 
at  the  ever  increasing  multitude.  But  he  was  not 
aware  that  he  was  observed  while  he  was  observing. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          167 

His  seat  was  near  the  cuneum,  or  wedge-shaped  sec 
tion,  in  which  the  women  sat;  and  on  one  of  the  high 
est  benches  in  this  section  was  Julia.  She  too  had 
come  early  with  one  of  her  attendants,  and  in  casting 
her  eye  around  upon  the  gathering  assemblage  she 
soon  descried  Marcus.  She  could  not  help  glancing 
frequently  in  his  direction,  for  he  interested  her  far 
more  than  the  audience  or  the  play  could  possibly  do. 
She  was  a  little  higher  up  than  he;  hence,  looking  at 
him  a  little  from  behind,  she  was  in  no  danger  of 
catching  his  eye  and  attracting  his  attention. 

Marcus  was  indeed  interesting,  but  he  became 
doubly  so  as  she  turned  her  eyes  toward  him  very 
shortly  before  the  performance  began.  In  the 
woman's  section,  between  herself  and  him,  a  very 
striking-looking  girl  had  taken  her  seat;  and  she  also, 
when  Julia  first  noted  her,  was  eyeing  Marcus  quite 
intently.  When  she  looked  at  him,  her  line  of  vision 
was  the  same  as  that  of  Julia;  and  so  she  too,  as  well 
as  the  daughter  of  Veltrius,  could  gaze  at  the  stalwart 
young  Roman  without  danger  of  drawing  a  returning 
glance. 

The  moment  that  Julia  perceived  this  young  girl 
and  saw  that  she  had  her  eyes  on  Marcus,  she  sur 
mised  that  she  was  looking  on  the  fair  stranger 
who  had  figured  so  conspicuously  in  the  epi 
sode  of  the  flower  girl.  She  therefore  began  at  once 
to  watch  her  and  study  her  closely.  Her  suspicions 
were  soon  confirmed.  The  girl  was  not  more  than 
twenty.  She  was  strikingly  beautiful.  Her  eyes,  as 
Julia  was  able  to  see  when  the  girl  was  moved  by  curi- 


1 68         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

osity  to  glance  around  the  theater  and  take  in  the 
strange  imposing  scene,  were  dark  and  very  brilliant. 
Not  familiar  with  the  varied  foreign  types  of  counte 
nance,  Julia  could  not  surely  determine  her  nationality; 
but  she  saw  plainly  that  she  was  of  alien  race  and  she 
felt  sure  she  was  not  mistaken  in  pronouncing  her  a 
Hebrew.  "  It  is  she!  It  is  she!  "  she  said  to  herself 
with  mingled  curiosity  and  aversion.  "  I  will  watch 
them  both  and  see  what  passes  between  them."  Mas 
tered  by  jealousy  and  hatred,  she  could  not  for  a  mo 
ment  think  that  the  two  were  there,  so  near  together, 
without  collusion;  and  she  could  hardly  for  an  instant 
keep  her  eyes  away  from  them.  That  she  herself 
was  closely  watched  while  she  was  thus  observing,  she 
was  not  aware. 

The  performance  began  and  the  audience  turned 
its  attention  to  the  stage.  The  opening  piece  was  a 
clumsy  and  boisterous  farce,  full  of  coarse  buffoonery, 
but  not  indecent,  and  amusing  to  the  undiscriminating. 
The  senators  laughed  moderately  at  it.  The  knights, 
though  plainly  amused,  maintained  a  self-satisfied 
Roman  dignity.  Waves  of  unrestrained  merriment 
occasionally  ran  through  the  ranks  of  the  patricians; 
while  the  proletariat  at  first  gave  vent  to  uproarious 
shouts  and  cries  of  approval  and  encouragement.  But 
as  the  piece  progressed  and  it  became  plain  that  it  was 
free  from  ribaldry  and  uncleanness,  the  multitudes 
grew  dissatisfied.  They  clamored  loudly  for  the  inde 
cent  display  and  the  nauseous  humor  for  which  they 
had  acquired  an  appetite  through  the  demoralizing 
stage  performances  given  every  year  during  the  car- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          169 

nival  season  of  the  Floralia.  So  the  end  of  the  farce 
called  forth  more  jibes  and  disparaging  comments  than 
applause. 

"What  brave  and  noble  spirits!"  exclaimed  the 
ironical  Cethegus,  looking  disdainfully  around  him. 
'  Would  these  jeering  vulgar  Romans  be  always  ready 
to  die  for  their  country,  Marcus?  " 

""  Those  poverty-stricken  knights  would.  Many  of 
those  boisterous,  purple-faced,  half-tipsy  patricians 
would.  So  would  some  of  these  boorish  plebeians 
near  us,  who  are  shouting  at  the  top  of  their  voices. 
Don't  sneer  so  much,  Cethegus.  Let  them  shout  and 
make  merry  if  they  will!  A  man  may  shout  and  bel 
low  and  be  a  man.  Come,  I'll  show  you  how  myself 
when  the  play  begins." 

The  Rudens  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  dramas 
that  has  come  down  to  us  from  antiquity.  Vipsanius, 
using  his  influence  with  the  other  Curule  Aediles  — 
their  body  having  the  control  of  public  shows  —  had 
had  the  play  produced  in  honor  of  the  eighteenth 
birthday  of  his  daughter.  Very  naturally  he  had 
chosen  a  thoroughly  unobjectionable  drama  and  he 
had  also  seen  to  it  that  the  farce  was  not  shocking  or 
outrageously  vulgar.  But  the  dissatisfaction  caused 
by  its  freedom  from  scurrility  was  not  likely  to  be  ap 
peased  by  the  Rudens;  for  this  drama  quite  lacks  the 
salacious  humor  which  so  abounds  in  the  comedies  of 
Plautus.  It  is  the  charming  and  romantic  story  of  two 
innocent  young  girls  who  are  shipwrecked  close  to  a 
villa  upon  the  sea,  claimed  by  a  ruffian  as  his  slaves, 
and  finally  proved  to  be  of  good  birth  and  breeding 


1 7o         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

and  hence  delivered  from  his  clutches. 

So  pleasing  was  the  opening  scene  of  the  play  that 
for  a  time  the  audience  showed  nothing  but  enjoyment 
and  satisfaction.  The  mansion  and  temple  by  the  sea 
afforded  an  unusually  beautiful  stage  setting  and  the 
situation  had  its  strong  human  interest.  The  rabble 
on  the  higher  benches  greeted  the  old  man  Daemones, 
who  owned  the  seaside  villa,  with  some  good-natured 
banter  and  jeered  a  little  at  his  slave  Sceparnio.  The 
youth  Pleusidippus  won  their  approbation,  as  he 
seemed  fitted  to  play  the  part  of  a  lover;  and  the  two 
shipwrecked  damsels  elicited  loud  applause  when  they 
appeared.  But  Labrax,  their  greedy  and  miserly 
owner,  was  received  with  a  storm  of  abuse;  and  from 
this  time  on  the  proletariat  and  the  livelier  spirits 
among  the  patricians  were  unruly  and  broke  forth  now 
and  then  in  loud  and  riotous  demonstrations.  Tem 
pestuous  indeed  were  the  cries  when  the  lorarii,  thong 
in  hand,  brought  in  Labrax  as  a  captive  and  handled 
him  roughly  because  he  had  been  trying  to  drag  the 
two  girls  from  the  altar  of  Venus  to  which  they  clung 
for  protection.  The  lorarii  were  told  to  lash  Labrax 
into  shreds,  put  out  his  eyes  and  mutilate  him  in 
ghastly  and  horrible  fashion.  It  was  plain  that  the 
debauched  taste  of  the  spectators  demanded  coarse 
ness  and  indecency  instead  of  beauty,  charm  and  the 
appeal  to  the  higher  emotions. 

Quite  unconscious  that  more  than  one  pair  of  eyes 
were  watching  him,  Marcus  responded  to  the  uproar 
ious  mood  of  the  audience  and  indulged  the  restive 
spirit  that  for  days  had  ruled  and  possessed  him.  He 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          171 

would  not  indeed  have  started  the  clamorous  demon 
strations  of  the  audience.  Ordinarily  his  sense  of 
dignity  would  have  prevented  him  from  joining  in 
them.  But  he  was  one  of  twenty  thousand;  the  wild 
mood  of  the  preceding  evening  was  still  on  him;  and 
he  delighted  in  shocking  the  fastidious  Cethegus.  Ac 
cordingly,  after  the  tendency  to  jibe  the  actors  became 
general,  he  too  shouted  at  them  with  the  merriest 
and,  without  making  himself  generally  conspicuous, 
amused  the  occupants  of  the  neighboring  benches  by 
the  pungency  and  the  aptness  of  his  comments. 

Yet  there  was  one  of  those  that  heard  him  who  was 
not  amused.  Julia  kept  her  eye  quite  constantly  upon 
him,  but  with  a  view  to  seeing  what  might  pass  be 
tween  him  and  the  Hebrew  —  for  that  the  young  girl 
who  frequently  looked  toward  Marcus  was  the  He 
brew  she  grew  absolutely  sure.  But  to  her  surprise 
there  was  not  the  slightest  sign  of  intercourse  or  rec 
ognition  between  them.  Marcus  never  looked  in  the 
direction  of  the  fair  alien.  She  glanced  occasionally 
toward  him  during  the  farce  and  the  earlier  scenes  of 
the  play.  When  he  became  loud-tongued  and  boister 
ous,  she  looked  more  fixedly  at  him  than  before  and 
her  attitude  expressed  surprise.  Presently  she 
turned  her  attention  to  the  stage  again,  but  she  had  a 
troubled  appearance  and  her  mind  did  not  seem  to  be 
upon  the  play. 

'What  does  it  all  mean?"  said  Julia  to  herself. 
"  He  does  not  act  as  if  he  knew  she  was  here;  yet  he 
has  taken  a  seat  near  her  in  a  part  of  the  theater  where 
he  would  not  naturally  go.  There  must  be  some  un- 


1 72         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

derstanding  between  them." 

But  her  speculations  came  to  a  sudden  end,  as  did 
also  the  performance.  The  vast  audience  was  still 
watching  the  stage  with  interest,  with  the  exception  of 
a  few  who  were  now  making  their  way  out  to  avoid 
the  inevitable  crowding  and  confusion  at  the  end.  In 
particular,  some  of  the  occupants  of  the  topmost 
benches  were  beginning  to  go  down  the  stairways  that 
led  to  the  outside  entrances  below.  They  were  of  the 
kind  who  think  always  of  themselves  and  not  of  oth 
ers;  the  spirit  of  mischief  had  been  let  loose  by  the 
unruly  doings  of  the  audience;  and  one  of  those  who 
had  gained  the  head  of  a  stairway  and  was  secure  of 
an  easy  exit  for  himself  was  moved  to  precipitate  a 
scramble.  Shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "  Run  for 
your  lives !  The  gladiators  are  loose  and  are  almost 
here!  "  he  fled  down  the  stairway  and  made  his  way 
outside  to  see  what  happened. 

Far  worse  things  happened  than  he  had  anticipated. 
Only  a  portion  of  the  vast  audience  heard  and  under 
stood  his  reckless  words.  The  cool-headed  among 
these  realized  almost  instantly  that  the  scare  was  a 
hoax.  But  before  they  could  use  their  influence  to 
quiet  the  excitable  and  prevent  a  stampede,  the  un 
reasoning  and  uncontrollable  mob  spirit  invaded  the 
huge  gathering  of  people.  The  timid  who  had  heard 
the  cry  took  alarm  and  rushed  for  the  stairways. 
Others  quickly  followed  them.  The  whole  assem 
blage  was  terrorized  and  eager  to  escape.  The  exits 
became  choked;  frightened  throngs  climbed  frantically 
up  over  the  rows  of  benches;  the  stairways  were  soon 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          173 

packed,  while  surging  toward  them  was  a  dense  mass 
of  human  .beings  so  closely  crowded  together  that 
some  fainted  for  lack  of  breath  and  were  held  up,  not 
by  their  own  strength  but  simply  because  there  was  no 
space  for  them  to  fall  down.  Others  again  were 
trampled  down  in  the  less  congested  places  and  suf 
focated  by  the  persistent  pressure  of  struggling  and 
spurning  feet. 

Julia  had  been  so  intent  in  observing  Marcus  and 
the  young  girl  who  was  watching  him  that  she  had  not 
started  for  the  nearest  stairway  as  quickly  as  those 
around  her.  The  pressure  about  her  became  great 
and  she  grew  alarmed.  The  instinct  for  self-preser 
vation  drowned  all  other  voices  and  motives  in  her. 
In  this  furious  struggle  for  life  who  could  help  her 
like  the  man  who  had  long  ruled  her  heart?  With 
great  difficulty  she  mounted  upon  a  bench.  She 
looked  where  Marcus  had  been  sitting  and  saw  him 
towering  above  the  throng  that  was  surging  round 
him.  Anger,  jealousy  and  suspicion  were  forgotten. 
She  stretched  out  her  hands  to  him  and  loudly  called 
his  name. 

He  saw  her  and  instantly  fought  his  way  toward 
her.  Heeding  not  the  angry  cries  he  occasioned, 
caring  not  what  resistance  he  encountered  and  knowing 
not  what  injuries  he  inflicted,  he  elbowed,  squeezed, 
pushed  and  crowded  through  the  writhing  mass  and 
called  to  Julia  to  stand  firm  if  possible  till  he  reached 
her.  More  than  once  he  lifted  a  man  clean  out  of  his 
way  and  hurled  him  to  fall  where  he  might  in  the 
straining  throng.  By  these  frantic  efforts  he  got  as 


174          THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

far  as  the  spot  where  Julia  had  stood,  but  she  mean 
time  had  been  swept  away  like  a  pebble  rolled  by  the 
surge.  His  great  height  availed  him,  however.  He 
saw  her  only  six  paces  distant  and  once  more  her  cry 
for  succor  reached  his  ears.  Still  exerting  his  enor 
mous  strength  ruthlessly,  he  fought  his  way  to  her  side, 
lifted  her  up  and  held  her  with  one  arm  while  with 
the  other  he  forced  a  passage  down  the  nearest  stair 
way. 

The  crush  was  tremendous  and  he  still  carried  Julia 
on  his  arm  as  he  pushed  forward  to  an  exit  that  would 
take  them  out  into  the  open  air.  As  he  reached  it,  he 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  a  young  girl  who  had 
also  succeeded  in  making  her  way  thus  far  in  safety 
through  the  press  of  maddened  human  beings,  made 
inhuman  by  the  wild  fierce  battle  for  life.  He  looked 
down  at  her  and  at  the  same  moment  her  eyes  were 
raised  to  his.  It  was  the  Hebrew  girl. 

"You?"  he  exclaimed  in  astonishment. 

She  made  no  reply,  gazed  for  an  instant  at  Julia 
who  gave  her  a  fierce  disdainful  glance  in  return, 
forced  her  way  through  the  entrance  and  was  lost  in 
the  crowd;  while  Marcus,  moving  no  longer  by  his 
own  volition  but  pushed  on  by  those  behind  him,  tried 
vainly  to  follow  her  with  his  eyes. 

"Where  is  your  lectica?"  he  said  somewhat  ab 
sently  to  Julia  as  they  gained  the  street. 

"  Put  me  down  at  once !  "  answered  Julia  with  en 
ergy,  "  and  I'll  find  my  lectica.  There  seems  to  be 
someone  else  who  needs  your  attentions." 


XVI 

44^T   TOLJ  have  had  your  wish,  Naarah.     You  have 

J     seen  a  Roman  spectacle.     You  have  seen  the 

«*-    ways  and  manners  of  the  Roman  people.     I 

hope  you  are  now  satisfied.     I  hope  you  do  not  wish 

to  see  any  more  sights  like  that  of  yesterday." 

So  said  Merari  to  his  granddaughter  the  evening 
following  the  presentation  of  the  Rudens.  They  were 
talking  together,  as  they  frequently  did  in  the  evening, 
in  a  simply  but  richly  furnished  apartment,  well  retired 
from  the  street,  which  Merari  had  appropriated  for 
his  own  special  use.  It  gave  evidence  of  his  nation 
ality  and  of  the  religious  faith  of  himself  and  his 
fathers.  The  table  and  the  chairs  were  made  of  cedar 
of  Lebanon.  A  cabinet  of  the  same  wood  "stood  in 
one  corner,  and  in  it  were  most  of  the  books  that  make 
up  the  Old  Testament  and  voluminous  commentaries 
upon  them.  On  the  wall  were  several  parchments  on 
which  Scripture  texts  had  been  beautifully  printed  in 
Hebrew.  In  a  conspicuous  place  was  one  that  read: 
IF  I  FORGET  THEE,  O  JERUSALEM,  MAY  MY  RIGHT 
HAND  FORGET  ITS  CRAFT.  On  the  floor  was  a  pur 
ple  rug  that  had  been  brought  from  Babylon  when  the 
captivity  ended  and  had  ever  since  been  preserved  as  a 
family  heirloom. 

"  I  do  not  wish  anything  that  does  violence  to  your 
feelings,  dearest  grandfather,"  Naarah  replied;  "  but 

175 


176         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

really,  why  should  I  be  satisfied?  I  saw  what  was 
pleasing  and  interesting,  for  the  play  was  a  beautiful 
one.  Why  should  I  not  wish  to  see  more?  " 

"The  play  was  inoffensive,  but  —  the  jeers,  the 
noise,  the  coarse  comments  of  the  spectators !  And 
then  that  cruel  hoax  at  the  end  which  caused  such  ter 
rible  excitement  and  lost,  I  am  sure,  a  number  of  lives. 
I  never  passed  more  distressing  moments  than  those 
in  which  I  was  wondering  if  you  were  safe  and  was 
powerless  to  reach  and  help  you." 

"  And  I  was  so  anxious  about  you  that  I  think  my 
heart  almost  stopped  beating.  But  the  merciful  Je 
hovah  who  remembers  His  own  people  watched  over 
us  both  and  restored  us  to  each  other.  Ah,  how  often 
have  I  thanked  Him  already  in  my  heart,  and  in  the 
night  watches  I  shall  praise  Him  for  his  mercy.'* 

"  He  is  mighty  to  save,  mightier  by  far  than  the 
proud  children  of  men.  My  prayer  rose  to  Him  in 
that  awful  struggle,  and  I  was  sure  that  for  thine  own 
sweet  sake  He  would  deliver  me." 

"  Yes,"  said  Naarah  slowly  and  thoughtfully,  "  He 
is  mightier  than  the  children  of  men.  Yet  a  strong 
right  arm  is  no  mean  help  in  such  a  frantic  crowd  when 
a  weak  maiden  is  like  a  chip  floating  on  an  angry  sea. 
It  was  well  that  the  proud  Roman  lady  had  the  Pre 
fect's  son  to  call  upon,  or  she  might  have  gone  down 
in  that  furious  struggle  and  have  been  trampled  to 
death.  Yes,  a  stalwart  arm  is  an  aid  and  a  comfort  in 
such  an  angry  time." 

;<  I  read  your  thoughts,  my  dear,"  said  Merari,  with 
a  smile  that  seemed  to  suggest  sadness  and  resignation 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         177 

rather  than  pleasure.  "  I  am  an  old  man  and  can  not 
give  you  the  protection  that  deep  down  in  your  heart 
you  long  for.  Your  longings  are  right  and  womanly. 
Some  day  they  will  be  satisfied.  The  gracious  Jehovah 
who  was  so  kind  to  the  fatherless  Ruth  remembers  all. 
From  what  you  have  told  me  I  judge  that  that  fair 
Roman  girl  has  found  her  protector  and  the  Prefect's 
son  will  be  her  life  companion." 

"  It  would  seem  so,  and  yet  I  hope  it  is  not  true. 
She  is  not  worthy  of  him." 

u  How  can  you  be  sure  of  that?  You  saw  her  but 
for  an  instant." 

"  An  instant  sometimes  tells  much  to  a  woman  who 
is  looking  into  another  woman's  face.  I  felt  that  I 
could  read  her  very  soul  as  I  gazed  into  her  eyes.  I 
saw  selfishness,  spite  and  the  fierce  passion  that  does 
not  belong  to  a  noble  nature." 

"  I  was  watching  her  myself  before  the  play  began 
and  from  time  to  time  during  the  performance.  I 
must  be  slow  to  condemn  one  whom  I  do  not  know; 
and  yet  I  can  not  help  thinking  you  are  right.  Her 
actions  did  not  please  me.  The  excited  attention  she 
gave  to  you  and  to  the  young  giant  she  so  plainly  cares 
for  did  not  seem  to  me  womanly.  But  how  about  the 
man  himself?  May  she  not  be  worthy  of  him?  His 
own  behavior  was  boorish  and  unmannerly." 

*  That  is  true.  He  seemed  to  be  wild  and  lawless 
but  I  believe  he  has  a  good  and  generous  heart.  I  am 
convinced  that  there  was  no  occasion  for  interference 
when  I  saw  him  with  the  flower  girl.  As  she  told  me 
the  story,  I  saw  that  she  had  been  needlessly  frightened. 


178         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

He  meant  nothing  but  kindness." 

"  I  trust  you  are  right.  His  father  is  said  to  be  a 
good  man  and  the  son  ought  to  be  like  him.  May  he 
find  a  worthy  helpmeet  among  the  proud  and  comely 
daughters  of  his  nation.  Many  pure  and  modest  Ro 
man  women  there  must  be,  though  there  are  many,  un 
happily,  who  flaunt  their  shamelessness  before  our  very 
faces.  Ah,  they  are  not  like  the  daughters  of  God's 
chosen  people.  How  could  it  be  expected?  They  are 
Romans  and  the  Roman  race  is  evil-mannered,  coarse 
and  brutal." 

"  So  you  say  frequently,  dear  grandfather,  and  I 
suppose  you  must  be  right.  Yet  their  sins  are  hardly 
greater  than  those  committed  by  our  own  nation,  which 
rebelled  so  often  against  Jehovah.  Let  us  be  just, 
then ;  and  even  though  we  condemn  the  Romans  on  ac 
count  of  their  wickedness  we  must  not  forget  all  the 
abominable  things  done  by  our  own  people.  We  shall 
not  be  very  much  longer  in  Rome.  Why,  then,  may  I 
not  see  what  goes  on  in  this  great  city  while  we  live 
in  it?  I  do  not  want  to  see  things  that  are  indecent 
and  vile.  That  you  do  not  need  to  have  me  tell  you. 
But  before  I  go  back  to  our  own  land  where  women 
live  a  narrow  and  secluded  life,  I  want  to  see  what 
men  and  women  of  the  great  world  really  do  instead 
of  sitting  in  my  little  room  and  reading  about  it.  I 
did  enjoy  the  play.  Oh,  it  was  delightful  even  if  the 
people  did  banter  the  actors  and  jeer  at  them;  and 
such  a  wicked  trick  as  was  played  at  the  end  would  not 
be  repeated.  It  was  the  heedless  thought  of  a  mis 
chievous  but  not  an  evil  mind.  I  am  always  willing 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          179 

to  do  as  you  wish,  dearest  grandfather.  I  will  remain 
cooped  up  in  the  house  with  Deborah  and  my  books 
for  the  rest  of  the  time  we  are  here  in  Rome,  if  you 
say  so.  But  you  don't  know  how  I  long  to  know  the 
wonderful  things  that  are  done  in  this  great  city  which 
is  ruling  the  world." 

"  Very  well.  You  shall  see  and  know  them  if  your 
heart  is  set  on  it.  It  is  true  that  grander  and  more 
magnificent  things  are  done  here  than  are  now  done 
anywhere  else  on  the  earth.  Rome  is  evil,  but  it  is 
very  great." 


XVII 

HOW  often,  since  the  cranes  caused  the  mur 
derer  of  Ibycus  to  reveal  himself,  has  the 
theater  been  the  scene  of  more  significant  hap 
penings  than  those  witnessed  on  the  stage!  The 
jealous  lover  sees  his  successful  rival  in  the  box  he  fain 
would  occupy,  and  the  end  is  a  stiletto  thrust.  The 
fan  of  the  coquette  waves  encouragement  that  only 
means  the  prolongation  of  misery  and  the  supreme  folly 
of  suicide.  A  beautiful  face  kindles  hope  in  the  man 
who  had  cast  all  hope  aside.  Looking  down  upon  a 
sea  of  faces,  the  victim  of  injustice  marks  that  of 
the  enemy  who  had  long  eluded  him  and  plans  a  deadly 
and  far-reaching  vengeance. 

Not  vengeance,  but  hatred  and  contempt  filled  Jul 
ia's  heart  as  she  watched  Naarah  at  the  Theater  of 
Marcellus  and  beheld  her  face  to  face  at  the  place  of 
exit.  The  sudden  meeting  had  roused  her  evil  and 
jealous  temper.  She  spoke  scornfully  to  Marcus  and 
dismissed  him  and  carried  a  heart  full  of  bitterness  to 
her  home.  She  knew  she  had  injured  herself  in  Mar 
cus'  esteem.  She  was  chagrined  and  self-reproachful 
that  she  had  again  showed  petulance  where  serenity 
and  self-control  would  surely  have  won  for  her  some 
gleams  of  that  sunlight  she  was  craving. 

Nor  was  she  wrong  in  thinking  that  she  had  turned 
Marcus  from  her  by  her  exhibition  of  ill-feeling.  As 

1 80 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         181 

he  carried  her  down  the  stairway  he  was  mastered  by 
the  protective  instinct  which  so  powerfully  draws  a  man 
toward  a  woman  he  is  shielding.  The  fire  of  passion 
was  beginning  to  burn  in  him  when  he  suddenly  looked 
into  Naarah's  eyes  and  then  heard  Julia's  bitter  speech. 
All  was  immediately  changed.  The  old  distrust  of 
Julia  revived,  and  he  could  not  dismiss  from  his  mind 
the  beautiful  face  he  had  thought  never  to  see  again. 
Destiny,  he  felt  in  spite  of  himself,  had  made  the  win 
some  Hebrew  stranger  cross  his  pathway  once  more. 
But  how  had  Julia  known  who  she  was?  That  she  did 
know,  he  was  certain.  The  scorn  that  she  put  into 
her  words  was  proof  of  it.  But  he  ceased  to  wonder 
about  it,  for  Julia's  quickness  of  apprehension  might 
well  have  made  her  divine  the  truth  on  the  instant. 
However  that  might  be,  he  brooded  much  over  the 
strange  meeting;  and  his  resolve  not  to  seek  and  find 
the  beautiful  young  Hebrew  cost  him  another  battle 
with  himself. 

That  Naarah  too  had  carried  away  from  the  theater 
disquieting  thoughts  has  already  been  shown.  Mar 
cus  had  taken  a  strange  hold  upon  the  imagination  of 
the  young  girl.  When  she  turned  away  from  him  after 
their  encounter  in  the  street,  she  had  not  supposed  their 
meeting  would  linger  in  her  thought  and  memory.  But 
she  could  not  dismiss  it.  She  was  not  romantic  or  sen 
timental;  but  her  heart  was  lonely  and  she  could  not 
keep  her  mind  from  dwelling  on  the  magnificent  young 
Roman  with  his  dark  kindling  eye,  his  imposing  stature 
and  his  frank  manliness.  In  spite  of  his  boisterousness 
at  the  theater  she  believed  him  upright  and  noble;  and 


1 82         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

the  thought  that  he  was  likely  to  marry  the  disdainful 
beauty  who  had  stared  at  her  so  insolently  was  disturb 
ing.  With  true  insight  she  had  read  selfishness  in  Jul 
ia's  look  and  manner,  and  she  was  pained  as  she  re 
flected  how  a  lasting  union  with  one  not  wholly  worthy 
might  strain  and  weaken  a  great  nature. 

There  was  another  who  had  carried  away  discom 
forting  thoughts  from  the  Theater  of  Marcellus. 
Delphium  had  been  there.  She  had  marked  Julia, 
noted  her  frequent  glances  toward  Marcus  and  seen 
that  she  was  interested  in  him.  She  had  been  keen 
enough  to  discern  Naarah's  interest  in  him  also,  but 
this  alien  woman  she  dismissed  from  her  mind  as  not 
worth  thinking  about.  Was  she  possibly  the  Unknown 
mentioned  by  Marcus'  companions?  No  matter  if  she 
were.  Marcus  himself  had  said  he  did  not  know  who 
the  Unknown  was,  and  it  was  therefore  plain  that  he 
could  not  be  seeking  her  society.  But  this  beautiful 
young  Roman  woman  was  a  rival  and  beyond  question 
a  dangerous  one.  All  the  more  did  she  feel  this  when 
she  saw  her  appeal  to  Marcus  in  the  mad  scramble  for 
safety  and  obtain  his  powerful  and  eagerly  bestowed 
assistance.  Here  was  a  danger  and  a  threatening  one. 
She  must  act.  She  must  use  every  opportunity  to  gain 
an  ascendency  over  Marcus'  mind  and  bring  him  under 
a  spell  that  he  would  not  try  or  wish  to  break. 

So  Vipsanius  did  far  more  than  he  expected  when 
he  had  the  Rudens  presented  in  his  daughter's  honor. 
It  had  been  the  means  of  injuring  terror-stricken 
men  and  women.  It  had  been  the  means  of  help 
ing  divers  life  currents  to  mingle  for  good  and  ill. 


XVIII 

MORE  restless  than  ever  after  the  incidents  at 
the  theater,   Marcus  sought  strangely  differ 
ing  means  of  diverting  himself  and  quieting 
his  mind.     He  sought  Lentulus  and  he  sought  Del- 
phium. 

Lentulus  was  the  one  man  in  Rome  who  gave  him  a 
true  companionship.  Born  for  action,  craving  action, 
Marcus  was  yet  a  thinker.  He  had  trampled  on  tra 
dition  and  the  outworn  creeds  of  paganism,  as  his  bold 
utterances  at  Delphium's  showed.  But  he  longed  to 
believe.  He  had  torn  down,  but  he  would  fain  build 
up.  He  was  living  on  negations  and  they  did  not  sat 
isfy  him.  Especially  at  this  time,  when  his  life  was 
soon  to  be  in  jeopardy,  did  they  utterly  fail  to  satisfy 
him.  Two  days  after  the  presentation  of  the  Rudens 
he  determined  to  visit  Lentulus  in  his  home  on  the 
Pincian  Hill.  There  the  young  Stoic  lived  in  absolute 
simplicity,  in  rooms  furnished  only  with  books,  manu 
scripts,  a  table,  a  rude  couch  and  two  or  three  by  no 
means  luxurious  chairs. 

But  his  unquiet  mood  made  him  wander  first  to  the 
Forum.  There  he  could  at  least  read  the  story  of 
Rome's  mighty  deeds.  There  every  stone  would  speak 
to  him  of  the  unconquerable  will  that  had  made  the  sev 
en-hilled  city  supreme  among  the  nations.  And  it  was 
not  without  awe  that  he  surveyed  the  scene  where  many 

183 


1 84         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

a  thrilling  word  had  been  spoken,  many  a  high  resolve 
had  been  made,  and  many  a  shout  of  triumph  or  of 
execration  had  risen  from  the  thronging  multitudes. 
What  a  cry  of  desolation  had  rent  the  air  when  the 
awful  slaughter  at  Cannae  was  here  made  known! 
How  welcome  had  been  the  news  of  Carthage's  final 
overthrow!  What  mingled  joy  and  dread  had  been 
awakened  when  it  was  learned  that  Caesar  had  crossed 
the  Rubicon !  And  what  had  the  Gods  been  doing 
through  all  these  great  days  of  the  nation's  history? 
There  stood  their  shrines  and  temples,  stately  and 
beautiful.  On  this  very  spot  they  had  been  unceas 
ingly  honored  with  costly  sacrifice  and  solemn  vows. 
Had  they  seen  and  heard?  Had  they  guided  the  peo 
ple  in  their  hour  of  triumph  and  raised  them  up  when 
they  were  faint  and  fallen?  Had  Castor  and  Pollux 
really  appeared  on  their  immortal  steeds  and  led  the 
wavering  Romans  on  to  victory  at  Lake  Regillus? 
No !  Marcus  could  not  feel  that  it  was  so.  It  was 
the  invincible  Roman  courage  that  had  made  Rome 
invincible  and  great.  The  Forum  taught  him  forti 
tude;  it  did  not  teach  him  faith.  Sadly  he  turned  from 
it  and  made  his  way  to  Lentulus'  abode. 

He  was  heartily  welcomed,  but  he  refused  the 
invitation  to  sit  down.  It  better  suited  his  perturbed 
mood  to  pace  the  room  while  he  talked. 

"  Lentulus,"  he  began,  "  I  am  putting  out  into  a 
stormy  sea.  If  my  craft  sinks,  what  will  happen?  " 

"  In  other  words,  if  Styrax  kills  you,  what  will  be 
come  of  you? " 

"  Exactly." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          185 

"  What  did  Socrates  say  when  he  found  that  his  craft 
was  really  going  down?  " 

"  That  he  might  sleep  forever;  that  he  might  wake 
up  again.  In  either  case  it  would  be  well." 

"  Your  memory  is  correct." 

"  Is  that  the  best  that  can  be  said?  " 

"  The  very  best.  No  one  can  know.  Lucretius  does 
not  even  lead  us  to  hope." 

"  I  want  to  know.  I  must  know.  I  am  not  satis 
fied." 

"  You  can  not  know.  But  you  can  hope.  Socrates 
argued  for  immortality.  Cicero  has  done  the  same. 
Both  argue  well.  Believe  what  they  say." 

"  Do  you  believe  it?  " 

'  They  can  not  prove  their  case.  If  they  could,  I 
should  not  be  saying  that  to  know  is  impossible.  At 
best  they  make  immortality  seem  probable,  not  certain." 

"  I  want  proof.  There  ought  to  be  proof.  If  there 
are  Gods,  why  don't  they  show  themselves?  If  men 
live  after  death,  why  don't  they  come  back  and  tell 
us?" 

*  You  are  asking  the  same  questions  that  have  been 
asked  by  every  generation  of  men.  No  one  has  ever 
had  an  answer." 

"  Some  God,  Apollo  or  whoever  it  was,  used  to  speak 
through  the  priests  at  Delphi." 

"  And  through  dreams  and  omens  and  through  sooth 
sayers  like  Tiresias  and  the  Sibyl.  Cicero  has  given  all 
the  evidence.  The  arguments  are  good.  They  are 
not  convincing." 

'  Well,  I  want  proof  and  I  am  going  to  find  it  some- 


1 86         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

where.  I  believe  it  exists.  Why,  I  am  a  proof  my 
self.  So  are  you.  So  are  all  men.  How  came  we  to 
be?  Someone  must  have  made  us.  Someone  must 
have  made  the  world  we  see." 

"  An  old  argument.  Perhaps  the  best  there  is. 
Only  it  isn't  knowledge." 

"  I  believe  it  is.  I  am  going  to  hold  it  till  I  find 
something  better.  As  for  Jupiter  and  Venus  and  all 
those  easy-going  people  on  Olympus,  I  have  done  with 
them.  So  has  every  person  who  thinks.  Horace  wrote 
odes  to  them,  but  if  you  had  asked  him  if  he  ever  ex 
pected  to  see  them,  he  would  have  given  you  a  sly  wink 
and  said  nothing.  But  I  was  not  brought  into  the 
world  just  to  pass  a  few  pleasant  years  and  then  have 
my  life  snuffed  out  like  a  candle.  What,  toil  to  get 
wisdom  all  one's  life  and  then  sink  into  nothingness  just 
as  the  eye  has  learned  to  see  and  the  brain  to  think! 
Why,  it  is  like  teaching  a  boy  to  use  the  broadsword 
and  the  pilum  and  then  shutting  him  up  in  a  closet!  " 

"No,  no!  You  are  wrong.  Men  serve  their  use 
like  the  fields  of  grain,  and  when  they  have  served  it 
they  pass  like  the  sheaves  that  have  been  threshed  and 
give  place  to  a  new  harvest." 

"  You  are  a  mere  thinking  machine,  Lentulus.  You 
never  feel.  I  have  that  in  me  that  tells  me  I  am  to  live 
forever.  Before  I  die  I  believe  I  shall  see  and  under 
stand  it  all  more  clearly.  Now  I  will  leave  you  to  your 
meditations.  May  you  have  joy  in  them  I  To  me  they 
are  very  much  like  moonlight  on  a  frosty  night." 

All  the  more  because  philosophy  failed  to  give  him 
the  assurance  he  was  seeking  did  Marcus,  with  his  full 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          187 

intense  nature,  crave  the  soothing  influences  of  Del- 
phium's  cozy  room.  Yet  he  realized  that  the  craving 
could  not  be  freely  gratified.  He  recognized  no  lover's 
passion  in  it.  He  must  therefore  act  with  self-control. 
He  could  not  repeat  the  late  visit  he  had  made  so  un- 
premeditatedly  after  his  encounter  with  Styrax.  But 
the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  he  had  held  the  above 
conversation  with  Lentulus  he  made  his  way  to  Del- 
phium's  but  found  that  none  of  his  friends  were  there. 
The  larger  serving  room  was  also  without  guests.  The 
few  that  had  come  had  not  lingered.  An  opportunity 
this  that  was  not  to  be  passed  by.  So  he  made  the 
surly  Gugon  announce  his  presence,  and  when  Delphium 
appeared  Marcus  intimated  that  a  cup  of  the  rich  rare 
wine  would  be  acceptable.  Delphium  was  only  too 
ready.  Concealing  her  intense  gratification,  she  con 
ducted  him  into  the  inviting  apartment  with  its  dim  rosy 
light  and  its  rich  furnishings.  There  a  full  beaker  of 
the  mellow  soothing  wine  was  given  him. 

This  was  Delphium's  opportunity  to  find  out  who 
was  the  beautiful  girl  Marcus  had  rescued  at  the  theater 
and  what  his  relations  with  her  were.  But  she  ap 
proached  the  subject  artfully.  She  let  Marcus  sip  his 
wine  for  a  little  while  in  silence  and  then  asked  him  how 
soon  he  was  to  meet  Styrax  and  whether  he  still  felt 
entirely  confident  about  the  issue. 

u  Entirely  so,"  said  Marcus.  "  So  much  so,  indeed, 
that  I  wish  we  were  to  fight  to-morrow  and  not  fifteen 
days  hence.  To  tell  the  truth,  the  matter  has  begun  to 
bore  me." 

Delphium  felt  this  to  be  strange  and  determined  to 


1 88         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

get  at  the  cause  of  his  indifference. 

'  You  are  an  extraordinary  man,  Marcus,"  she  said 
in  her  suave  tranquil  way.  "  It  is  safe  to  say,  no  other 
man  in  Rome  could  have  such  a  terrific  task  on  his 
hands  and  not  consider  it  the  only  thing  worth  thinking 
of  or  talking  about." 

"  Ah,  but  I  was  born  to  be  a  soldier,  Delphium. 
The  danger  and  excitement  of  conflict  seem  like  a  native 
air  to  me.  They  don't  keep  me  agitated  and  uneasy. 
They  have  rather  a  quieting  influence." 

"  Even  so  much  so  that  they  bore  you,"  continued 
Delphium  with  a  quiet  laugh.  '  You  would  make  a 
strange  soldier,  Marcus.  A  great  battle  is  to  begin. 
Your  general  says  to  you,  '  Now  charge  with  all  your 
might  and  the  day  is  ours !  '  And  you  yawn  just  as 
you  did  a  moment  ago  and  say,  *  I  should  like  to  if  I 
were  not  so  terribly  bored.'  ' 

Marcus  could  but  laugh  at  this  singular  picture  of 
a  soldier  performing  his  duty.  Delphium's  quiet  drol 
lery,  her  smooth  soft  manner  of  speech,  the  pleasant 
subdued  light,  and  the  appealing  influences  of  the  still 
evening  hour,  were  giving  him  exactly  the  gratification 
which  he  craved  and  which  Julia's  waywardness  and 
petulancy  never  afforded  him. 

"  Still,"  she  resumed,  "  the  soldier's  life  is  the  right 
one  for  you,  Marcus.  I  have  seen  that  very  clearly. 
But  it  would  bring  you  sore  disappointments.  You 
would  expect  your  men  to  be  glad  to  be  held  up  to  your 
own  strict  standards  of  discipline;  the  truth  is  they 
would  resent  it.  The  officers  you  would  take  to  be 
men  who  shared  your  own  love  of  what  is  just  and 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          189 

honorable;  but  you  would  find  them  coarse,  petty,  jeal 
ous  and  intriguing.  You  see  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
having  too  rigid  an  idea  of  duty  and  becoming  need 
lessly  discouraged  by  trying  to  do  too  much.  It  isn't 
wise,  you  know,  to  attempt  the  impossible." 

"  If  I  were  a  soldier,  I  could  not  do  less  than  my  full 
duty.  I  should  be  a  traitor  to  my  country  if  I  gave  it 
only  half  my  loyalty  and  my  devotion." 

'  You  would  do  your  full  duty  to  your  country,  if  you 
made  your  men  so  devoted  to  you  that  you  could  al 
ways  count  on  them.  And  that  you  would  best  accom 
plish  by  humoring  their  whims  and  recognizing  that 
the  life  of  the  camp  can  not  be  as  clean  and  decent  as 
that  of  men  like  —  like  you  and  Lentulus." 

uLentulus?  What  do  you  know  about  Lentulus? 
He  never  comes  here." 

"  No.  I  wish  he  did  instead  of  some  of  the  wine- 
bibbers,  for  I  know  how  upright  and  honorable  he  is. 
But  he  thinks  he  would  smirch  his  toga  if  he  swept  it 
through  my  doorway.  Ah,  me !  How  many  there 
are  who  like  to  sit  on  Rhadamanthus'  seat  and  judge 
us  all  before  we  go  down  to  Pluto!  How  very  wise 
they  must  be !  I  should  not  myself  know  where  to  be 
gin  and  where  to  end.  But  I  believe  I  would  trust  you 
to  do  it,  Marcus.  I  know  you  would  always  be  just." 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  confidence,  Delphium,  but  I 
have  no  desire  to  sit  on  Rhadamanthus'  seat,  if  he  really 
has  one.  I  should  not  know  any  better  than  you  where 
to  begin  and  where  to  end;  and  I  should  be  pelted  off 
the  seat  with  stones  before  I  got  very  far.  I  should 
put  gladiators  in  high  places  and  send  senators  and 


190          THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

magistrates  off  to  punishment  Some  of  our  high-born 
dames  who  turn  down  their  thumbs  in  the  arena  I  should 
set  to  work,  and  some  of  the  women  they  look  upon 
with  loathing  I  should  clothe  in  purple.  No,"  he 
added  with  a  laugh,  "  I  should  never  do  for  a  judge 
at  all." 

l<  It  is  just  because  you  would  do  such  things  that 
you  would  make  a  better  one  than  any  other  man  in 
the  world.  And  in  time  you  will  have  a  sense  of  duty 
that  is  as  broad  as  your  judgment  of  men.  It  will 
make  you  see  that  you  must  take  men  as  they  are  and 
use  them  as  they  are  if  you  wish  to  accomplish  anything. 
That  was  Julius  Caesar's  way.  Ah,  he  was  wise !  " 
."  So  wise  that  they  killed  him  at  the  last." 

'  You  perverse  man !  They  killed  him  because  he 
was  too  scrupulous.  He  should  have  made  himself  em 
peror,  brushed  all  the  objectors  out  of  the  way,  ruled 
with  an  iron  hand,  and  then  done  all  the  good  things 
for  Rome  he  had  it  in  his  mind  to  do.  He  could  have 
done  them  then  after  he  was  firmly  fixed  in  power  and 
surrounded  by  soldiers  to  whom  his  word  was  law. 
But  he  did  not  want  to  shock  the  Romans  by  using  the 
name  of  King  and  so  he  came  to  grief.  He  was  too 
scrupulous,  I  say.  And  that  is  what  you  will  be,  Mar 
cus,  unless  you  learn  that  you  can  not  apply  your  rigid 
ideas  of  what  is  just  and  right  to  men  and  women  as 
you  meet  them  any  more  than  you  can  find  a  measuring 
rule  that  will  tell  you  whether  or  not  their  hearts  are 
evil." 

"Unless  I  learn?     I  wonder  who  is  to  teach  me? 
I  have  always  been  thought  to  have  a  mind  of  my  own." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         191 

"  Teach  you?  "  cried  Delphium,  throwing  a  cushion 
on  the  floor  at  his  feet  and  looking  up  at  him  as  she 
seated  herself  upon  it.  "  Who  said  anything  about 
teaching  you?  Who  in  the  world  would  think  of  try 
ing  to  teach  a  man  like  yourself?  You  will  be  your 
own  teacher.  You  will  never  have  a  deep  or  stirring 
experience  without  seeing  what  lesson  it  contains  for 
you.  You  will  never  come  in  touch  with  a  subtle  and 
discerning  mind  without  drinking  from  its  wisdom. 
You  will  study  all  the  people  you  meet  and  learn  from 
them  more  than  they  ever  dream  they  are  giving.  But 
I  should  be  sorry  for  the  person  who  set  up  to  be  your 
teacher." 

She  had  all  the  while  been  gazing  at  Marcus  admir 
ingly  as  she  sat  at  his  feet.  Now,  she  seemed  to  look 
dreamily  above  and  beyond  him  as  she  continued, 

"  And  yet  the  best  and  greatest  men  have  teachers. 
Socrates  listened  to  the  daemon  that  told  him  what  to 
do,  and  Pericles  was  not  above  heeding  the  counsels 
of  Aspasia.  What  a  wonderful  intelligence  she  must 
have  had  to  influence  a  man  like  Pericles!  Did  he  go 
to  her  all  the  time,  I  wonder;  or  was  it  that  questions 
came  up  so  intricate,  so  delicate,  so  perplexing  that  he 
found  his  own  clear  discernment  illumined  by  the  flashes 
of  her  quick,  unerring  insight  and  her  sensitive  under 
standing?  When  a  man  finds  such  guidance  as  that,  he 
makes  the  most  of  it.  His  is  still  the  master  mind.  It 
plans,  it  builds,  it  takes  what  quickens  and  helps  it;  it 
rejects  what  will  clog  and  belittle  it.  But  with  such  a 
delicate  wisdom  to  inspire  it,  it  soars  like  an  eagle  that 
sails  with  the  breeze;  while  without  it,  it  may  be  like 


1 92         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

the  same  bird  beating  vainly  against  the  gale. 

"  And  perhaps  this  very  help  is  to  be  yours,  Mar 
cus,"  she  went  on,  now  looking  directly  at  him  again 
as  if  thinking  intently  of  his  own  good.  '  In  that 
awful  crush  at  the  Theater  of  Marcellus  the  other  day 
I  heard  a  woman  calling  to  you  to  come  and  save  her. 
I  wondered  who  she  was.  I  wondered  if  she  were  one 
to  walk  at  your  side  and  help  you  solve  all  the  baffling 
problems  you  are  sure  to  encounter  as  you  go  on  and  do 
the  large  things  you  are  fitted  to  do.  But  I  hope  at  any 
rate  that  you  saved  her?  I  hope  she  was  not  hurt?  " 

"  She  was  not  hurt,"  said  Marcus.  Then  he  added 
with  unusual  slowness  and  deliberation,  "  She  was  an 
old  acquaintance  whom  I  value,  but  she  would  hardly 
be  an  Aspasia  to  a  Pericles.  Goodnight,  Delphium." 

As  the  two  parted,  Delphium  said  exultingly  to  her 
self,  "  I  have  found  out  what  I  wanted  to  know.  He 
does  not  care  for  her."  The  uppermost  thought  in 
Marcus'  mind  was  that  Julia  would  be  quite  irresistible 
if,  with  her  beauty  and  spirit,  she  could  give  him  the 
sympathetic  companionship  he  found  with  Delphium. 


XIX 

AS  the  day  of  the  conflict  with  Styrax  drew  nearer, 
Marcus  realized  that  he  had  been  over-confident. 
His  mental  agitation  had  engendered  a  defiant 
mood  and  a  spirit  of  bravado.     But  his  sense  of  duty 
now  steadied  him.     He  owed  it  to  himself,  still  more 
to  his  father  to  do  his  best.     So  he  exercised  regularly, 
fenced  at  the  gladiators*  school  every  day,  and  was  once 
more  genial  and  natural  with  his  companions. 

To  Delphium's  he  continued  to  go  frequently. 
There  he  found  deep  satisfaction  in  the  companionship 
of  his  intimates,  even  though  he  drank  but  sparingly; 
and  there  he  passed  many  a  pleasurable  moment  in  Del 
phium's  own  society.  Their  talk  seemed  to  be  nothing 
but  the  lively  chat  of  two  old  friends.  None  the  less 
the  clever  adventuress  was  never  for  a  moment  losing 
sight  of  her  cherished  purpose.  She  was  using  all  her 
arts  to  make  herself  indispensable  to  him.  And  she 
seemed  to  be  succeeding.  More  and  more  did  Marcus 
give  her  his  full  confidence.  So  freely  did  he  talk  to 
her  and  so  contented  did  her  presence  always  make  him 
that  she  felt  sure  his  thoughts  were  not  turning  to  the 
beautiful  woman  whom  she  regarded  as  a  rival.  That 
a  more  formidable  rival  existed  she  did  not  dream. 

Yet  a  more  formidable  rival  there  was,  for  Marcus 
was  by  no  means  forgetting  Naarah.  That  strange 
second  meeting  would  not  pass  out  of  his  mind.  Hold 
ing  firmly  to  his  resolve  not  to  seek  this  foreign  girl 

193 


194         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

who  so  intruded  upon  his  thoughts,  he  yet  clung  to  the 
idea  that  he  was  fated  to  meet  her  again.  Supersti 
tion  and  hope  are  very  ancient  allies.  What  is  at  heart 
desired  is  half  expected. 

But  this  depth  Delphium  quite  failed  to  sound. 
Her  spirits  rose  as  she  found  Marcus  responsive  to  her 
own  bright  moods;  and  she  was  pleased  to  see  how 
carefully  he  was  preparing  for  his  desperate  encounter. 
In  this  seriousness  of  purpose  she  strongly  encouraged 
him,  and  she  made  him  agree  to  come  to  her  to  be 
properly  disguised  before  he  took  his  place  with  the 
gladiators  to  enter  the  arena. 

As  the  appointed  day  approached,  Marcus  took 
Hacho  into  his  counsels  after  binding  him  to  secrecy; 
and  from  him  he  obtained  all  the  advice  and  instruction 
that  this  experienced  contestant  was  able  to  give. 

Hacho  was  much  concerned  when  he  learned  of  the 
risk  that  Marcus  was  to  run.  Loyal  and  kindly  by  na 
ture,  he  had  served  both  Agrippa  and  Marcus  faithfully 
and  had  shown  such  intelligence  and  trustworthiness 
that  he  had  already  become  one  of  the  Prefect's  most 
valued  body  servants.  But  while  he  was  attached  to 
both  and  grateful  to  both,  he  knew  well  it  was  to  Mar 
cus  that  he  really  owed  his  freedom ;  and  to  him  he  was 
absolutely  devoted. 

His  skill  with  the  sword  made  it  profitable  to  Mar 
cus  to  fence  with  him;  but  his  advice  was  more  profit 
able  still.  These  were  his  final  instructions  the  day 
before  the  duel  was  to  take  place. 

"  Styrax  is  a  fierce  fighter,  but  a  very  wary  one.  You 
must  be  wary  too." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          195 

"  How  can  one  be  fierce  and  wary  at  the  same 
time?" 

"  Not  quite  at  the  same  time,  though  that  is  more 
possible  than  you  suppose.  The  old  gladiator,  even 
when  he  is  pressing  his  enemy  the  hardest,  is  never 
really  off  his  guard.  He  is  always  expecting  an  attack. 
But  real  caution  is  best  shown  in  studying  the  enemy 
and  finding  out  all  his  tricks  before  you  rush  vigor 
ously  upon  him." 

"  But  if  Styrax  is  a  wary  fighter,  he  won't  show  his 
hand.  He  will  try  to  make  me  show  my  method  of 
attack  instead  of  letting  me  see  his." 

"  Exactly.  You  understand  it  all  perfectly.  That 
is  just  what  he  will  do.  Now,  which  ought  to  outwit 
the  other,  Styrax  the  rude  Thracian,  or  Marcus  the 
Roman?" 

'  You  know  how  to  pass  a  compliment,  Hacho,  as 
well  as  to  serve  and  fight,"  said  Marcus  with  an  amused 
smile.  "  But  Styrax  is  cunning  even  if  he  is  a  rude 
Thracian,  and  he  will  not  easily  allow  himself  to  be  out 
witted." 

"  He  is  cunning,  but  he  is  also  savage  and  wild";  and 
it  is  just  there,  I  think,  that  you  will  get  the  advantage 
of  him  and  beat  him.  Cunning  is  of  no  avail  when  a 
man  loses  his  temper." 

"  I  see.  I  see.  It  isn't  wit  against  cunning.  It  is 
wit  and  self-control  against  cunning  and  blind  rage." 

'  You  put  it  just  right,  master.  Keep  your  temper 
and  you  will  win.  He  will  lose  his  because  he  hates 
you." 

"  Yes,  he  hates  with  the  blind  fury  of  a  wild  cat 


196         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

Poor  fellow !  I  begin  to  feel  sorry  for  him.  He  is 
like  a  beast  led  to  the  slaughter." 

'*  He  would  be  only  too  glad  to  slaughter  you. 
Don't  forget  that,  for  if  you  are  in  a  pitying  mood  and 
off  your  guard  for  an  instant,  he  will  make  an  end  of 
you." 

"  I  will  think  before  I  begin  the  fight  how  cruel  he 
was  to  the  girls  in  the  gladiators'  wine  room.  That 
will  make  me  eager  to  put  him  where  he  can  do  no  more 
harm." 


XX 

NOT  many  hours  after  the  conversation  between 
Marcus  and  Hacho  took  place  Merari  was 
seated  in  his  private  room  diligently  studying  a 
roll  that  contained  the  Prophecy  of  Hosea.  A  silver 
lamp  stood  on  the  table  by  which  he  sat,  affording  a  not 
brilliant  but  sufficient  light;  and  by  it  the  old  man  read 
slowly  from  the  inspired  words  which  he  seemed  to 
weigh  and  consider  with  much  care.  But  his  studies 
seemed  to  give  him  scant  satisfaction.  After  a  time 
he  laid  down  the  roll  with  a  troubled  expression,  leaned 
back  in  his  chair  and  clapped  his  hands  thrice.  Al 
most  instantly  an  old  woman,  with  white  hair  and  bent 
form  but  with  an  eye  still  bright  and  a  nimble  step, 
stood  before  him. 

"  Ah,  Tirzah,"  he  said,  "  you  are  as  prompt  as  ever 
to  do  my  bidding.  Many,  many  years  have  you  served 
me.  You  nursed  my  daughter  Miriam  whom  God  was 
pleased  to  take  from  me  in  her  childhood;  and  you 
nursed  my  dear  grandchild  Naarah,  who  has  proved  a 
second  daughter  to  me.  Well  were  you  named  Tirzah, 
for  you  have  brought  nothing  but  '  pleasantness  '  into 
my  house.  May  you  long  continue  to  be  a  joy  unto 
us !  Will  you  please  go  now  and  ask  Naarah  if  I  shall 
come  to  her  own  apartment  or  wait  for  her  here;  for 
I  desire  to  speak  with  her." 

Tirzah,  whose  face  had  beamed  with  pleasure  while 

197 


198         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

Merari  so  kindly  addressed  her,  disappeared.  She  had 
been  gone  but  a  moment  or  two  when  Naarah  threw 
back  the  hanging  at  the  entrance  to  the  room,  entered, 
hastened  to  the  old  man's  side  and  greeted  him  with 
warm  affection. 

"  It  is  so  good  of  you,  dear  grandfather,  to  let  me 
come  here  and  share  your  thoughts,"  she  said  as  she 
flung  a  cushion  on  the  floor  and  seated  herself  at  the 
old  man's  feet  with  her  clasped  hands  resting  on  his 
knee.  "  I  was  feeling  a  little  lonely,  and  you  are  al 
ways  such  good  company.  But  how  can  you  bear  to 
give  up  your  books  and  your  deep  meditations  to  talk 
with  an  ignorant  young  girl  like  me?" 

"  '  And  a  little  child  shall  lead  them,'  "  he  said  gently 
as  he  looked  fondly  upon  her  and  stroked  her  hair. 
"  The  young  do  not  always  know  what  stores  of  wis 
dom  God  places  in  their  pure  untroubled  hearts.  Your 
thoughts  often  instruct  me,  Naarah.  I  doubt  not  they 
help  me  as  much  as  mine  help  you.  I  fear  my  poor 
old  brain  is  withered.  Yours  is  fresh  and  strong." 

"  It  is  good  of  you  to  say  all  this;  but  I  am  only 
a  young  maid  that  knows  neither  books  nor  the  world. 
And  you  know  both.  Everywhere  among  our  own  peo 
ple  you  are  reverenced  and  admired;  and  Tirzah  has 
told  me  that  the  most  learned  elders  in  our  own  land 
listen  with  deep  respect  to  your  comments  on  our  sacred 
books  and  weigh  them  carefully." 

"  I  believe  that  they  do,"  said  the  old  man  with  a 
sigh,  "  yet  I  doubt  whether  they  are  wise  in  doing  so. 
I  have  prided  myself  on  my  learning,  but  I  fear  I  have 
been  presumptuous.  Our  books  are  profound.  I  find 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          199 

them  puzzling.  The  longer  I  study  them,  the  less  sure 
I  am  that  I  read  and  interpret  them  aright.  A  pure 
young  heart  may  yet  see  what  I,  with  all  my  long  medi 
tation,  have  failed  to  grasp." 

"  It  would  make  me  very  happy,  grandfather,  to 
help  you  understand  our  Sacred  Books.  But  your 
thoughts  about  them  are  so  deep  and  grave,  while  I 
can  not  help  seeing  things  that  are  amusing  in  some  of 
the  stories  that  are  found  in  them." 

"  Amusing?  That  is  a  strange  word  to  use  regard 
ing  God's  own  revelation  to  His  chosen  people.  I  fear 
you  are  not  learning  to  regard  it  with  true  reverence 
and  respect." 

"  Oh,  I  assure  you  that  I  am.  But  some  of  the  inci 
dents  have  a  comic  side  when  you  stop  and  think  about 
them.  It  isn't  always  what  is  said  but  what  is  unsaid 
that  makes  me  laugh  when  I  think  it  over.  That  pic 
ture  of  Laban  searching  for  his  gods  in  Jacob's  tents 
has  always  amused  me  greatly.  There  was  the  crafty 
Rachel  sitting  on  them  and  deceiving  her  own  father; 
and  Jacob  was  so  indignant  that  Laban  should  have 
suspected  him !  He  talks  so  solemnly  and  has  such  an 
air  of  injured  innocence,  when  he  was  guilty  all  the  time 
if  he  had  but  known  it.  What  do  you  suppose  he  said 
to  Rachel  when  he  found  her  out?" 

"  Words  of  sorrow,  no  doubt.  Her  deceit  must 
have  been  painful  to  him." 

"  Now,  grandfather,  I  don't  believe  it  pained  him  a 
bit.  I  am  much  more  inclined  to  think  he  smiled 
shrewdly  and  commended  her  for  her  cleverness.  He 
had  cheated  Esau  out  of  his  birthright  by  a  sharp  trick; 


200         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

and  when  he  made  his  vow,  after  seeing  the  ladder  with 
the  angels  ascending  and  descending  upon  it,  he  looked 
out  for  himself  very  carefully.  He  said  the  Lord 
should  be  his  God  if  He  would  be  with  him  and  keep 
him  in  the  way  he  should  go  and  give  him  bread  and 
raiment.  No,  I  don't  believe  it  was  in  him  to  find  fault 
with  Rachel  because  she  had  tricked  her  father,  seeing 
that  he  himself  had  tricked  his  own  father  and  cheated 
his  brother  at  the  same  time." 

"  But  think  of  his  kindness,  Naarah,  and  his  great 
tenderness  of  heart!  Think  how  he  mourned  for 
Joseph,  and  respect  his  memory  1  The  Lord  prospered 
him  and  he  was  one  of  the  fathers  of  our  nation." 

"  I  think  of  him  with  all  reverence  and  respect,  dear 
est  grandfather;  but  I  can  not  help  seeing  all  the 
strange  and  curious  things  in  this  wonderful  story  of 
our  people.  So  many  wild  and  fearful  things  were 
done  in  those  far  away  days,  and  the  record  of  them  is 
so  wonderfully  told!  The  pictures  stay  in  the  mind. 
You  can  not  forget  them.  Now,  I  don't  believe  you 
know  who  was  the  first  strong  man  before  Samson." 

"  I  do  not  seem  to  remember  that  any  such  was  men 
tioned,  child.  Certainly  I  could  not  give  his  name." 

"  Oh,  but  there  was  one.  There  was  more  than  one. 
The  first  was  Ehud,  the  Judge  who  killed  Eglon  the 
king  of  Moab.  He  stabbed  him  with  a  knife  that  was 
a  cubit  long,  and  yet  he  smote  so  hard  that  he  drove  the 
haft  into  Eglon's  body  and  he  couldn't  pull  the  knife 
out  again.  The  story  is  so  vividly  told  that  you  can 
almost  see  it  all  done.  Then,  there  was  the  Judge  who 
came  after  him,  named  Shamgar.  He  must  have  been 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         201 

almost  as  strong  as  Samson  himself.  Samson  killed  a 
thousand  Philistines  with  the  jaw-bone  of  an  ass;  but 
Shamgar  slew  six  hundred  of  them  with  an  ox-goad." 

"  I  am  not  surprised  that  you  want  to  see  the  Roman 
games,  Naarah,"  said  Merari,  with  an  amused  expres 
sion.  "  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  such  an  admirer 
of  brave  men  and  their  deeds." 

"  We  maids  are  all  alike,  if  you  did  but  know  it. 
You  do  not  understand  us,  because,  with  your  kind, 
generous,  noble  heart,  you  think  too  well  of  us.  Now, 
there  is  one  person  mentioned  in  our  Scriptures  that  a 
learned  man  like  you  would  waste  no  thought  upon, 
but  a  woman  would  think  of  with  a  little  envy  in  her 
heart.  I  will  venture  to  say,  grandfather,  that  you 
couldn't  guess  who  that  is  if  you  tried  a  hundred  times." 

"  I  am  sure  I  shouldn't  if  I  tried  a  thousand  times. 
So  I  won't  guess  at  all." 

"  It  is  Absalom,  the  son  of  David.  He  had  his  hair 
cut  once  a  year,  it  got  so  heavy  on  him.  And  no  won 
der  it  did,  for  it  weighed  two  hundred  shekels.  Only 
think,  grandfather !  Two  hundred  shekels !  It  seems 
a  waste  for  a  man  to  have  such  a  head  of  hair  as  that.'' 

"  No,  I  shouldn't  have  guessed  it,  Naarah.  I  should 
never  have  guessed  it.  It  is  surely  as  you  say.  The 
woman's  mind  has  its  own  points  of  view.  Old  man  as 
I  am,  I  have  seen  that  all  my  life;  but  I  never  had  it 
brought  before  me  so  pointedly  and  so  strikingly." 

"  And  with  your  close  attention  to  the  profound 
things  in  our  Scriptures,  you  never  thought  of  being 
amused  at  anything  in  them,  and  you  are  a  little  shocked 
that  I  should  be.  But  I  can  not  help  being,  and  the 


202         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

passages  about  Absalom  are  some  of  those  in  which  I 
find  a  suggestion  of  irony  and  humor.  This  young 
man,  who  was  said  to  be  without  blemish  from  head  to 
foot,  was  evidently  very  proud  of  his  beauty.  Think 
of  a  man's  letting  his  hair  grow  for  a  whole  year  till 
it  reached  down  to  his  waist,  perhaps  to  his  very  feet, 
just  in  order  to  be  looked  at  and  admired!  No  doubt 
he  expected  all  the  young  women  to  whisper  to  one 
another  as  he  went  by  and  wish  they  had  such  a  head 
of  hair  as  that.  And  then,  to  think  it  was  this  very 
hair  that  proved  his  undoing!  If  he  had  only  kept  it 
cut,  he  wouldn't  have  lost  his  life.  But  he  would  have 
it  long;  and  so,  when  he  had  wickedly  stolen  the  hearts 
of  the  people  and  roused  them  to  rebellion,  his  hair 
got  him  into  trouble.  He  was  beaten  in  battle  and 
fleeing  for  dear  life  on  his  mule,  with  his  long  thick 
tresses  streaming  behind  in  the  wind.  A  stout  oak 
branch  catches  them.  Round  and  round  it  they  twine 
and  pull  him  off  his  mule;  and  there  the  poor  fellow 
hangs  till  Joab  finds  him  and  thrusts  him  through  the 
heart.  Do  you  suppose  he  thought,  as  he  was  hang 
ing  there,  that  he  would  have  done  well  to  be  less 
proud  of  his  beauty  and  to  keep  his  hair  close  cut?  " 
"  I  shall  leave  such  inquiries  as  that  to  the  woman's 
mind,  Naarah.  If  it  is  natural  to  women  to  raise  such 
questions,  I  fear  they  will  have  to  answer  them.  You 
must  read  our  Sacred  Books  in  your  own  way  and  draw 
your  own  lessons  from  them.  I  see  that  you  have  a 
woman's  heart  and  a  woman's  understanding.  I  shall 
make  no  further  objection  to  your  seeing  in  this  great 
city  where  we  sojourn  such  things  as  you  think  it  best 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         203 

to  see.  God  Himself  watches  over  such  as  you  and 
keeps  their  hearts  virgin  and  unsoiled.  We  will  go 
to-morrow,  if  you  wish  it,  and  see  the  games  at  the 
Circus.  Indeed,  it  was  to  tell  you  that  that  I  desired 
to  see  you." 

"  Most  surely  I  wish  it,  grandfather.  Oh,  how  ex 
citing  it  will  be!  Will  there  be  chariot  races?  I  do 
so  want  to  see  a  chariot  race!  " 

u  Yes,  there  are  to  be  races  and  many  bloodless  games 
and  contests,  and  then  gladiatorial  combats  at  the  end. 
But  those  we  will  not  witness." 

"  No,  surely  not.  It  would  be  terrible  to  see  men 
hurt  and  kill  each  other.  But  how  happy  I  shall  be  in 
watching  the  races  and  the  games !  I  can  hardly  wait 
for  the  hour  to  come." 


XXI 

THE  August  sun  shone  fair  upon  the  multitudes 
that  filled  the  Circus  Maximus  at  Rome.  Be 
neath  its  burning  rays  sat  high  dignitaries,  con 
suls,  knights  and  senators  in  their  appointed  places, 
while  patrician  and  plebeian,  citizen  and  alien  seated 
themselves  promiscuously,  too  eager  for  the  approach 
ing  spectacle  to  be  nicely  observant  of  the  distinctions 
of  caste  and  race.  The  jaded  appetite  for  pleasure, 
which  was  satisfied  by  the  tame  entertainment  of  the 
theater  only  as  the  thirst  for  strong  drink  is  satisfied 
by  water,  was  glutted  by  the  dangers  of  the  chariot 
race  and  the  deadliness  of  the  gladiatorial  strife. 
When  wheels  and  cars  and  poles  were  all  heaped  to 
gether  in  one  mass  of  wreckage,  when  steeds  lay  man 
gled  and  moaning  and  their  drivers  could  not  rise  after 
being  hurtled  through  the  air,  when  the  gladiator  sank 
on  the  ground  weltering  in  blood  and  the  victor  looked 
to  the  spectators  for  the  sign  of  mercy  or  of  death,  and 
when  the  air  shook  with  the  roar  of  ravenous  beasts 
let  loose  upon  defenseless  criminals,  the  Roman  multi 
tudes  experienced  the  thrills  of  pleasure  which  their 
vitiated  natures  craved. 

From  the  day  of  small  beginnings  when  a  puny  band 
of  Romans  scarped  and  bastioned  the  hills  beside  the 
Tiber,  this  proud  and  masterful  people  had  been  ani 
mated  by  the  spirit  of  conquest  and  dominion.  Not  on 

204 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         205 

the  sunny  Italian  peninsula  was  to  be  repeated  the  tragic 
story  of  Grecian  struggle,  aspiration  and  failure. 
Here  there  was  to  be  no  short-lived  dominance  of  a  peo 
ple  that  could  keep  its  supremacy  only  as  the  exultant 
gladiator  keeps  it,  drunk  with  victory  to-day  but  pros 
trate  to-morrow  on  the  blood-stained  dust.  Warring 
ever,  Rome  was  victorious  ever.  The  conflict  was 
stubborn  and  bloody,  but  the  call  for  retreat  was  sel 
dom  sounded  and  defeat  only  armed  this  giant  among 
the  nations  with  the  prowess  that  proved  invincible. 
The  Roman  boundaries  widened  unendingly  as  the  cen 
turies  wore  away.  All  Italy  became  Roman  soil. 
The  might  of  Hannibal  could  not  save  Carthage  from 
overthrow.  Spain,  Gaul,  Greece,  Syria,  Egypt,  the  en 
tire  Mediterranean  territory  and  inland  countries  that 
were  never  swept  by  the  vivifying  breezes  of  the  sea, 
rendered  homage  to  the  imperial  city  that  waxed  proud 
and  wanton  on  her  seven  hills. 

Wanton  indeed,  and  perhaps  inevitably  so.  For 
very  early  in  its  history  Rome  began  to  pay  the  price  of 
incessant  bloodshed.  The  death-grapple  does  not  teach 
compassion.  The  human  shambles  do  not  exalt  the 
dignity  of  manhood.  Even  in  fighting  for  self-preser 
vation  Rome  had  made  war  a  butchery.  Multiplying 
and  threatening  tribes,  like  the  Gauls  and  Germans, 
had  been  not  merely  conquered  but  wiped  out  of  ex 
istence  ;  and  the  captives  who  swelled  the  long  triumphal 
procession  were  not  human  beings  entitled  to  sympathy 
and  pity,  but  creatures  who  existed  simply  for  Rome's 
benefit  and  who  suffered  the  fitting  penalty  for  daring 
to  defy  the  mistress  of  the  world. 


206         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

Small  wonder,  therefore,  that  sport  never  became 
among  the  Romans  the  ennobling  pastime  that  it  was 
in  Greece.  The  Greeks  perfected  the  human  body  be 
cause  it  was  to  them  a  thing  of  beauty.  The  Romans 
made  it  strong  and  serviceable  that  it  might  be  equal 
to  the  arduous  task  of  strife  and  subjugation.  Their 
multitudes  could  not  be  roused  to  enthusiasm  by  the 
mere  prowess  of  the  clean-limbed  athlete,  whose  pro 
portions  seemed  to  the  Greeks  almost  as  noble  as  the 
marble  image  of  the  god  who  inspired  him  to  victory. 
A  sport  to  be  edifying  to  the  Romans  must  reflect  their 
own  blood-stained  history  and  gratify  senses  that  had 
been  coarsened  by  long  years  of  conquest  and  of  indif 
ference  to  its  revolting  horrors.  The  sack  of  cities, 
the  wail  of  women,  the  slaughter  of  babes,  the  shrieks 
of  the  wounded  and  the  agonizing  appeals  of  the  help 
less,  had  brutalized  because  they  had  been  unheeded 
and  had  planted  the  love  of  cruelty  deep  in  the  Roman 
heart. 

And  what  practice  and  experience  had  sanctioned 
religion  only  confirmed.  The  ancient  cults  did  not  rec 
ognize  the  spirit  of  human  brotherhood.  They  but 
reflected  the  intolerance  that  was  one  of  the  natural 
consequences  of  isolation,  imperfect  intercourse,  and  the 
primitive  instincts  which  make  every  man  see  an  enemy 
in  a  stranger.  The  gods  of  a  nation  were  but  the 
creation  of  its  instincts  of  self-preservation.  They  en 
couraged  it  to  overthrow  and  destroy  its  enemies. 
They  did  not  rebuke  the  lust  for  rapine  and  bloodshed. 
Rather  did  they  rejoice  when  they  saw  it  wipe  out  op 
posing  hosts  without  mercy  or  compunction.  Hence, 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         207 

their  worship  engendered  hatred,  jealousy  and  love  of 
mastery  instead  of  charity  and  friendliness;  and  hence, 
too,  the  Romans  who  had  grown  brutal  in  conquering 
the  world  were  not  humanized  or  softened  by  the  gods 
they  professed  to  serve.  Neither  Jupiter,  Mars,  Apollo, 
Diana,  Venus  or  Minerva  bade  them  pity  the  unhappy 
men  and  women  who  were  led  through  their  streets  in 
triumph,  or  respond  to  the  appeal  of  the  wounded  gladi 
ator  as  he  looked  up  to  them  with  pleading  eyes  from 
his  gory  couch  upon  the  sand.  Some  kind,  gentle,  pity 
ing  hearts  there  were  in  those  cruel  days.  The  Ro 
mans,  debased  though  they  were,  were  yet  not  savages 
who  took  a  fiendish  delight  in  suffering  and  torture. 
Civilization  must  civilize.  It  must  cultivate  the  finer 
emotions  and  broaden  the  horizons  of  the  mind.  Even 
while  Rome  had  been  growing  shameless  and  bestial,  it 
had  produced  the  humane  Cicero,  the  enlightened  Au 
gustus,  and  the  gentle,  sensitive  and  spiritually-minded 
Vergil.  And  such  spirits,  if  rare,  were  by  no  means 
solitary.  In  cruel,  selfish,  egotistical  Rome,  that  sat 
wrapped  in  darkness  even  as  a  great  light  was  about  to 
dawn  on  the  far  away  Judaean  hills,  there  were  women 
who  were  made  tender  and  compassionate  by  the  holy 
instincts  of  motherhood  and  by  the  very  sweetness  of 
their  own  natures;  and  there  were  men,  like  Marcus 
and  his  father,  who  shrank  with  loathing  from  every 
thing  that  was  inhuman,  foul  and  mean.  But  such  na 
tures  were  the  exception  that  proved  the  rule.  The 
Romans  who  gathered  to  see  the  shows  in  the  days  of 
the  Empire  were  for  the  most  part  a  brutal  multitude, 
athirst  for  excitement,  pitiless  and  wanton,  and  a  prey 


208         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

to  all  the  unclean  emotions  that  dominate  the  idle  mind. 

It  was  on  such  a  multitude  that  Naarah  gazed  as  she 
took  her  seat  in  the  Circus  by  the  side  of  her  grand 
father  the  day  after  the  conversation  with  him  recorded 
in  the  preceding  chapter.  Although  the  Circus  was  al 
ready  well  filled,  the  two  found  seats  very  close  to  the 
arena  from  which  they  could  command  an  excellent 
view  of  the  various  happenings  that  were  appointed 
for  the  day.  No  sooner  were  they  seated  than  Naarah 
cast  her  eye  about  her  with  intense  interest  and  curi 
osity.  She  had  come  to  observe  as  well  as  to  be  enter 
tained.  She  had  come  to  watch  and  study  this  Roman 
populace  which  had  filled  the  Theater  of  Marcellus 
with  such  diverse  elements  and  had  received  the  beauti 
ful  drama  of  Plautus  with  such  curiously  mingled  ap 
probation  and  displeasure.  A  strange  people  she  had 
thought  them  when  she  saw  them  condemn  as  insipid 
what  was  giving  her  unalloyed  delight.  She  wished  to 
see  for  herself  what  kind  of  an  entertainment  it  was 
that  would  satisfy  their  morbid  craving  for  excitement. 

It  is  usually  the  mature  and  jaded  mind  that  brings 
the  critical  and  reflective  attitude  to  a  stirring  scene  of 
pleasure.  But  Naarah  was  by  nature  thoughtful,  and 
her  secluded  life  had  encouraged  in  her  the  habit  of 
forming  her  own  independent  judgments.  She  had 
made  herself  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  story  of  her 
own  people;  she  was  well  versed  in  Greek  and  Roman 
history  and  literature;  for,  with  a  native  gift  for  lan 
guages,  she  had  mastered  both  the  Greek  and  the  Ro 
man  tongues.  And  as  she  had  read,  she  had  compared 
and  studied  and  thought.  Her  own  people,  rebellious, 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         209 

perverse  and  sinful  as  they  had  often  been,  had  had  such 
a  wonderful  history !  They  had  been  so  plainly  called 
by  the  Divine  voice  and  guided  by  the  Divine  hand ! 
Such  marvelous  things  had  been  wrought  for  them! 
What  was  there  in  Greek  or  in  Roman  history  like  the 
passage  of  the  Red  Sea  or  the  destruction  of  Jericho? 
And  such  mighty  men  had  been  raised  up  to  lead  and 
teach  them !  Who  among  the  great  men  of  Greece  and 
Rome  could  be  compared  with  Moses  and  Elijah  and 
Isaiah?  Not  for  an  instant  could  this  young  girl,  with 
all  her  love  of  pleasure,  her  desire  to  know  the  world 
and  her  remarkable  readiness  to  recognize  the  good  in 
an  alien  people,  forget  that  she  herself  belonged  to 
God's  chosen  race.  She  had  come  to  see  the  holiday 
multitudes  of  the  mighty  imperial  city;  but  she  had 
come  with  a  vivid  sense  of  the  august  and  unparalleled 
story  of  her  own  nation  —  the  nation  that  had  wit 
nessed  the  most  sublime  and  awful  spectacles  even  seen 
by  human  eye. 

Yet  the  multitude  was  really  too  vast  to  gauge  and 
measure.  Here  were  all  the  differing  elements  that 
had  filled  the  Theater  of  Marcellus,  only,  if  possible, 
more  numerous,  more  complex,  more  diverse.  Here 
were  patrician  and  commoner,  clerk,  magistrate,  man 
of  letters,  man  of  business,  petty  trader,  parasite, 
spendthrift,  coxcomb,  the  lean,  ragged,  hungry  prole 
tariat  masses,  and  aliens  from  innumerable  climes  and 
of  endlessly  varying  garb  and  aspect.  One  thing  only 
this  mighty  mass  had  in  common,  a  fierce  craving  for 
the  coming  spectacle.  Differing  incalculably  in  reli 
gion,  in  aspiration,  in  hereditary  and  national  proclivi- 


210         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

ties,  in  every  day  tastes  and  in  interior  thought  and 
purpose,  this  vast  heterogeneous  mass  could  yet  be  uni 
fied  for  a  few  brief  moments  by  the  lust  of  the  eye  and 
the  tingling  demands  of  nerves  long  fed  with  excite 
ment.  A  holy  and  purifying  thought  would  have  in 
spired  infinitely  varying  emotions  in  those  countless 
thousands;  the  clash  of  sword  on  shield  engendered  in 
all  alike  a  gratifying  thrill. 

Naarah  could  not  but  note  the  difference  in  feeling 
between  this  gathering  and  the  one  she  had  made  a 
part  of  in  the  theater.  The  people  in  the  theater  were 
like  a  dog  that  is  offered  bread.  The  people  at  the 
circus  were  like  a  dog  that  smells  meat  and  knows  that 
the  food  he  is  ravenous  for  is  forthcoming.  There 
was  everywhere  manifest  an  air  of  excitement.  The 
whole  assemblage  was  alive  with  eager  expectation. 
They  could  not  sit  in  patience.  As  the  appointed  hour 
drew  near,  loud  calls  arose  on  every  side  from  restless 
spirits  who  demanded  that  the  show  should  begin  with 
out  further  delay;  and  the  wag,  who  abounds  in  every 
aggregation  of  human  beings,  began  to  be  noisy  and 
facetious. 

"The  horses,  the  horses!  Why  don't  they  bring 
out  the  horses?  " 

"  No,  no!  The  gladiators.  We  want  the  gladia 
tors." 

"  No,  not  the  gladiators  first.  By  Pollux!  do  you 
eat  your  peacock  before  your  relishes?  " 

"  They  say  the  lions  have  eaten  the  horses.  There 
won't  be  any  races." 

"  That's  good  for  the  criminals.     The  lions  won't 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         211 

be  hungry  for  them." 

u  Oh,  the  lions  will  always  eat  criminals,  they  have 
such  a  spicy  flavor." 

"  Then  they  ought  to  like  Tiberius." 

"  I  wish  one  of  them  would  eat  him." 

"  I  should  pity  the  lion.  He  would  have  the  stom 
ach  ache  for  the  rest  of  his  life." 

"  I  wish  the  lions  would  eat  all  his  spies." 

"  Lions  won't  touch  spies.     They  don't  like  tainted 


meat.1' 


Such  was  the  cheap  wit  that  was  thrown  about  by 
the  bold  and  insolent  rabble.  They  were  made  auda 
cious  by  the  vastness  of  the  multitude  and  by  their  own 
personal  insignificance.  It  was  practically  impossible 
for  the  spies  of  Tiberius  to  detect  them  in  such  a 
densely  packed  assemblage,  and  it  was  not  their  class 
of  which  the  suspicious  monarch  was  afraid.  Political 
plotters  did  not  issue  from  their  ranks.  Hence,  some 
of  the  more  reckless  of  them  did  not  spare  the  occu 
pant  of  the  imperial  throne  as  they  uttered  their  coarse 
taunts  and  jibes.  The  spy  system  had  created  an  ani 
mosity  which  even  a  liberal  dispensation  of  shows  did 
not  heal. 

Naarah  and  her  grandfather  were  not  far  from  the 
awned  and  luxuriously  cushioned  seats  which  were  re 
served  for  the  Emperor,  his  family,  and  his  friends. 
Tiberius  himself,  however,  was  not  present.  He  dis 
liked  to  show  himself  in  public  and  he  was  now  in  re 
tirement  at  Capraeae.  But  the  Court  was  well  repre 
sented  by  brilliantly  costumed  men  and  women,  all  of 
whom  gazed  about  them  with  an  air  of  insolence  and 


212         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

disdain  that  fitly  characterized  Rome's  attitude  toward 
the  world  she  had  subdued.  Toward  these  favored 
personages  all  eyes  were  now  and  again  directed.  Es 
pecially  did  those  who  occupied  the  adjacent  benches 
study  carefully  their  attire  and  their  attitudes  and  try 
to  catch  fragments  of  their  conversation.  The  springs 
of  curiosity  are  not  dried  even  on  the  eve  of  the  most 
intense  excitement.  But  those  who  basked  in  the  im 
perial  sunshine  cared  little  for  the  pale  light  of  popu 
lar  regard  and  interest.  Indifferent  to  the  multitudes 
around  them,  they  awaited  the  coming  spectacle. 

'  What  a  wonderful  sight  and  what  a  wonderful 
people !  "  said  Naarah  to  her  grandfather  after  she 
had  gazed  about  her  for  a  few  moments.  '  To  think 
that  these  wine-bibbing,  pleasure-loving  patricians 
have  conquered  the  world!  To  think  that  they  have 
conquered  our  own  nation  which  Jehovah  made  victo 
rious  over  its  enemies  through  the  long,  long  years!  " 

'  Yes,  they  conquered  us.  But  that  dominion  must 
end.  Our  day  of  greatness  must  come.  Jehovah  has 
promised  it." 

"  If  it  comes  it  will  surely  be  through  Him.  We 
cannot  with  our  own  strength  defeat  these  Romans  in 
battle.  But  if  He  smites  them,  they  will  perish  as  the 
Egyptians  perished  in  the  Red  Sea  or  as  the  hosts  of 
Sennacherib  passed  away  in  a  single  night." 

"  And  it  will  all  come  to  pass.  It  will  all  come  to 
pass.  My  mind  misgives  me  at  times;  yet  the  prom 
ises  have  been  given  us  and  they  cannot  fail.  In  one 
short  hour  the  walls,  the  temples,  the  palaces  and  all 
the  costly  pleasure  haunts  of  this  proud  city  might 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         213 

crumble,  even  as  the  walls  of  Jericho  crumbled  at  the 
bidding  of  Jehovah.  And  Jerusalem  would  then  be 
the  mistress  of  the  world!  Kings  and  princes  would 
bow  down  before  her.  All  the  nations  of  the  earth 
would  bring  her  tribute  — " 

But  while  the  old  man  was  speaking  there  came  a 
flourish  of  trumpets,  and  all  knew  that  the  sports  were 
to  begin.  A  sudden  hush  succeeded  the  dull  murmur 
of  human  voices,  and  every  eye  was  turned  to  the  car- 
ceres,  or  stalls,  where  the  horses  and  chariots  were. 
Through  the  open-work  wooden  gates  that  confined 
them  their  presence  could  be  just  barely  noted;  their 
character  and  their  appointments  it  was  impossible  to 
discern.  Great  was  the  curiosity,  therefore,  when  the 
gates  were  pushed  open  at  the  given  signal  and  the 
chariots  issued  forth.  Three  there  were  that  came 
rapidly  forward  and  stood  in  even  line  before  the  white 
cord  that  checked  them  at  the  beginning  of  the  course. 
To  Naarah's  inexperienced  eye  the  spectacle  afforded 
nothing  but  delight.  The  chariots  were  elegant;  the 
steeds  well-groomed  and  shapely.  So  brave  an  ap 
pearance  gave  promise,  she  felt  sure,  of  as  exciting  a 
contest  as  could  be  desired.  But  the  old-time  specta 
tors  who  had  watched  innumerable  chariot  races 
around  these  very  goals  knew  better.  They  knew  that 
the  best  was  always  reserved  to  the  last;  and,  trained 
observers  that  they  were,  they  saw  that  the  drivers 
lacked  nerve  and  daring  and  that  the  horses  were  not 
of  the  staunchest  build  or  the  highest  mettle.  And  the 
race  itself,  interesting  and  enjoyable  to  the  uninitiated, 
was  tame  to  such  as  had  witnessed  nerve-racking  con- 


2i4         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

tests  in  which  life  and  limb  were  deemed  as  nought 
compared  with  the  coveted  triumph.  For  the  drivers 
handled  the  reins  with  caution,  collisions  were  carefully 
avoided,  and  without  difficulty  the  fastest  pair  obtained 
a  decisive  lead  even  before  the  final  seventh  round  was 
run. 

The  next  race  was  more  exciting.  Two  quadrigae, 
or  four-horse  chariots,  came  forth  from  the  carceres, 
drew  up  for  a  moment  before  the  white  cord,  and  then 
dashed  down  the  course  at  headlong  speed  as  the 
trumpet  peal  was  heard.  Side  by  side  they  careered 
along  the  spina,  or  low  wall  that  divided  the  course 
into  halves,  passed  in  rapid  succession  the  three  conical 
wooden  posts  which  served  as  goals,  and  were  still 
nearly  abreast  as  they  whirled  down  on  the  other  side. 
In  similar  fashion  they  completed  the  first  six  rounds 
of  the  race.  Neither  chariot  could  gain  a  decisive 
lead.  The  seventh  round  was  begun  with  one  of  the 
two  only  a  length  ahead.  The  spectators,  who  had 
become  much  interested,  looked  to  see  an  exciting  fin 
ish.  But  as  the  goal  posts  were  reached  for  the  last 
time,  the  driver  whose  chariot  was  in  the  rear  made  too 
sharp  a  turn.  His  car  collided  with  that  of  his  rival. 
Both  cars  were  wrecked;  both  drivers  were  thrown  to 
the  ground.  Naarah  gave  a  cry  of  pity,  but  was  re 
lieved  to  find  a  moment  later  that  the  drivers  were  but 
slightly  hurt  and  the  horses  not  at  all. 

"What  did  you  expect?"  inquired  Merari,  a  little 
amused  at  her  sensitiveness.  "  You  have,  no  doubt, 
read  Sophocles'  Electra  and  you  know  what  deadly  mis 
chief  a  chariot  race  can  cause." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         215 

"  And  what  needless  mischief.  Why  are  those 
drivers  so  reckless  and  so  ungenerous?  Can  they 
take  no  pleasure  in  any  success  but  their  own?  It 
would  be  so  much  nobler  to  see  a  rival  win  than  to  hurt 
him  and  wreck  his  chariot!  " 

"  Nobler  by  far.  But  do  not  expect  to  see  men  like 
our  Samuel  or  Elisha  driving  the  chariots." 

And  now  a  stir  of  eager  expectation  ran  through  the 
assemblage.  As  was  frequently  done,  lists  of  the 
steeds  that  were  to  take  part  in  the  important  race, 
with  their  names  and  colors,  had  been  handed  about. 
For  the  next  race,  which  was  the  final  one,  was  to  be 
the  real  contest  of  the  day.  As  choice  a  pair  of  steeds 
as  the  Italian  peninsula  could  generate  was  to  be 
matched  against  rival  pairs  from  other  lands.  These 
Italian  bred  horses  were  sure  to  be  the  favorites  of  the 
Roman  populace,  and  large  sums  had  been  staked  by 
patricians  and  plebeians  alike  on  their  success.  At  the 
same  time  the  rival  pairs  had  found  backers  and  not 
merely  among  the  aliens  who  were  present  The 
horse  race  is  not  a  good  school  for  patriotism.  The 
greed  it  inspires  is  stronger  far  than  pride  in  the  father 
land.  But  from  whatever  motives,  whether  from  pa 
triotism,  cupidity,  or  mere  love  of  excitement,  the  vast 
concourse  was  clamorous  for  the  final  race  to  begin. 
Intense,  almost  painful,  therefore,  was  the  interest 
when  the  gates  of  four  of  the  career es  were  thrown 
wide  and  four  chariots  ranged  themselves  before  the 
starting  rope.  Again  the  trumpet  sounded.  Again 
the  cord  was  dropped  and  the  rival  pairs  flew  down  the 
course. 


216         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

For  a  moment  the  multitudes  were  silent;  then  thun 
derous  cheers  arose  as  the  Romans  saw  their  own  color 
forge  ahead.  It  was  a  pair  of  cream-colored  horses 
from  sunny  Calabria  on  which  they  rested  their  hopes. 
They  were  decorated  with  purple  ribbons  and  their 
driver  wore  a  tunic  of  purple.  Well  might  the  Roman 
faction  in  the  crowd  of  excited  spectators  look  with 
favor  on  these  beautiful  steeds.  They  were  full  of 
fire  and  spirit,  with  gracefully  curving  necks,  elegant 
limbs,  long  bodies  and  a  breadth  of  chest  that  betok 
ened  strength  and  endurance. 

But  fleet  and  formidable  were  the  other  three  pairs 
that  were  matched  against  the  Calabrians.  Two 
splendid  grays  from  Boeotia,  decked  with  pink,  com 
manded  the  admiration  of  all  by  their  admirable  action 
and  the  evidence  of  power  they  afforded  to  the  experi 
enced  judge.  They  were  heavier  than  was  usual  with 
racers,  but  their  tread  was  light  and  in  every  attitude 
and  motion  they  manifested  the  qualities  which  the 
grueling  contest  they  were  engaged  in  unsparingly  re 
quired.  Even  though  the  grays  were  at  first  outdis 
tanced,  those  who  had  staked  money  on  them  were  well 
satisfied  with  their  appearance  and  were  confident  that 
the  final  issue  would  justify  their  expectations. 

More  captivating  to  the  eye  of  most  was  a  milk- 
white  pair  from  Persia  whose  color  was  pale  green. 
On  the  rich  Iranian  plateaus,  with  their  clear  health- 
giving  atmosphere,  these  beautifully  proportioned  ani 
mals  had  acquired  their  daintily  modeled  limbs,  their 
compact  bodies,  their  spirit  and  their  easy  gait  which 
seemed  so  effortless  that  it  was  hard  to  think  of  it  as 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT          217 

becoming  slack  or  heavy.  No  small  number  of  the 
spectators  had  selected  this  pair  as  the  winners  and 
pledged  their  purses  to  support  their  choice.  No  re 
grets  now  disturbed  them  as  they  noted  carefully  their 
favorites'  pace  and  mettle. 

Less  appreciated  were  two  jet-black  Arabians, 
which,  docile  rather  than  mettlesome,  shaped  for  en 
durance  rather  than  for  beauty,  did  not  so  manifestly 
possess  the  points  that  please  the  ordinary  eye.  Yet 
those  in  the  assemblage  who  had  a  nice  discernment 
shook  their  heads  as  they  observed  how  easily  these 
desert  coursers  carried  themselves,  how  their  feet 
seemed  to  spring  from  the  earth  as  if  the  very  contact 
with  the  soil  supplied  them  with  strength,  and  how  the 
forward  thrust  of  the  neck  and  the  long,  perfectly 
shaped  body  gave  promise  of  marvelous  speed  when 
they  stretched  in  full  career  adown  the  sand-strewn 
course.  Well  did  all  these  experienced  judges  know 
that  the  Calabrians  would  be  sorely  taxed  to  outstrip 
this  sleek  and  shining  pair,  driven  as  they  were  by  a 
crafty  Syrian  whose  every  motion  betokened  confidence, 
strength  and  skill. 

;<  He  looks  like  one  of  our  own  nation,"  said 
Naarah,  as  the  chariots  whirled  for  the  first  time  past 
the  point  where  she  was  seated,  "  I  hope  he  will  win. 
How  handsome  he  is,  with  his  clear  swarthy  skin  and 
his  curly  hair!  Why,  it  is  as  black  as  the  coats  of  his 
horses !  And  that  light,  yellowish  costume  —  it  makes 
me  think  of  the  stretches  of  desert  sand.  I  like  it  bet 
ter  than  the  others.  It  has  a  friendly  look.  Yet  the 
other  colors  are  pleasing.  Do  they  have  any  meaning, 


218          THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

do  you  think?  " 

'  The  purple  of  the  Roman  chariot,"  said  Merari, 
"  is  one  of  those  shades  obtained  from  the  Tyrian 
murex.  They  are  all  supposed  to  be  the  emblem  of 
royalty,  and  no  doubt  this  has  been  selected  for  the 
Roman  driver  to  symbolize  the  imperial  power  of 
Rome.  As  to  the  pink  of  the  Boeotian  and  the  pale 
green  of  the  Persian,  I  doubt  if  they  have  any  special 
significance.  They  are  distinguishing  marks,  nothing 


more." 


u  Arabia  is  nearest  my  own  dear  land.  We  could 
almost  look  on  its  sandy  stretches  from  our  high  moun 
tains.  It  makes  me  think  of  the  darling  home  of  my 
childhood  to  see  those  beautiful  black  horses  that  came 
from  so  near  by.  Oh,  how  I  hope  they  will  come  in 
first!  But  what  a  glorious  sight  a  chariot  race  is,  and 
how  glad  I  am  that  you  brought  me.  I  haven't  been 
so  happy  since  I  was  a  little  girl.  No,  no !  "  she  added 
quickly  as  she  realized  that  the  last  words  must  have 
given  pain.  "  I  do  not  mean  that.  I  only  mean  that 
it  gives  me  joy  to  see  what  is  so  rich  and  splendid  and 
appealing." 

The  old  man  gave  her  a  pleased  and  grateful  look. 
Then  they  both  turned  their  eyes  intently  upon  the 
course;  for  even  to  the  old  man  the  sight  of  the  four 
chariots  dashing  madly  down  the  sands  was  an  alto 
gether  absorbing  one.  To  Naarah  the  spectacle  was 
positively  thrilling;  and  the  most  seasoned  and  jaded 
of  the  onlookers  found  the  excitement  that  they  craved. 
The  drivers  were  all  as  daring  as  they  were  skillful. 
They  did  not  fear  to  put  their  steeds  to  the  top  of  their 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         219 

speed.  Nor  did  they  always  hold  their  coursers  in  as 
they  made  the  dangerous  turns  round  the  ends  of  the 
spina,  and  the  goal  post  was  in  very  truth  '  barely 
avoided  by  the  glowing  wheels.' 

While  watching  the  previous  races  Naarah  had 
learned  that  the  full  circuit  was  made  seven  times.  She 
had  noted,  too,  how  a  servitor  took  down  from  the 
sphia  one  of  the  ova,  or  conical  shaped  balls,  at  the 
completion  of  each  round,  and  the  process  had  amused 
her. 

"  One  of  those  egg-shaped  pieces  is  to  be  taken  down 
every  time  a  round  is  finished?"  she  inquired  as 
Merari  explained  the  practice. 

"  Exactly  so." 

"  What  stupid  people,  not  to  be  able  to  count 
seven !  "  she  exclaimed.  But  the  excitement  of  the 
present  struggle  was  sufficient  to  show  the  wisdom  and 
convenience  of  the  custom.  So  absorbed  were  the 
faculties  in  watching  the  race  that  the  count  of  the 
rounds  was  difficult  to  keep. 

Exciting  the  contest  was  from  the  outset.  Though 
the  Calabrians  obtained  the  lead  at  the  very  beginning 
and  called  forth  the  plaudits  of  the  assemblage,  they 
did  not  long  maintain  it.  The  Persians  turned  the 
goal  post  just  behind  them  at  the  completion  of  the 
first  round  and  then  outstripped  them  by  a  burst  of 
speed.  Never  slackening  their  pace,  they  put  a  clear 
distance  of  three  chariot  lengths  between  themselves 
and  the  cream  colored  coursers;  and  this  lead  they  main 
tained  through  the  second  round  and  the  first  half  of 
the  third.  Then  the  Calabrians  slowly  gained  on  them 


220         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

and  passed  them  in  the  beginning  of  the  fourth,  to  the 
unbounded  delight  of  the  greater  portion  of  the  specta 
tors.  Plainly  the  milk-white  horses  were  feeling  the 
strain.  They  had  been  put  to  their  best  too  early  in 
the  race.  The  grays  from  Boeotia  also  passed  them 
before  the  fourth  round  was  at  an  end  and  almost 
drew  abreast  of  the  Calabrians. 

The  fifth  round  was  an  exciting  contest  between  the 
Calabrians  and  the  grays.  Now  the  two  pairs  were 
neck  and  neck;  now  one  pair  forged  ahead  only  to  be 
overtaken  a  moment  later  and  outdistanced  by  the 
other.  But  as  the  round  neared  its  end,  it  became  ap 
parent  that  the  grays  had  the  superior  wind  and  bot 
tom.  They  obtained  so  distinct  an  advantage  over 
their  rivals  that  they  were  able  to  take  the  inside  of 
the  course,  close  to  the  sp'ina.  Their  driver  fairly 
grazed  the  goal  post  as  he  made  a  dexterous  turn  at  the 
end  of  the  round;  and  he  began  the  sixth  round  so 
well  in  advance  of  the  other  three  that  he  had  good 
reason  to  think  that  the  race  was  his.  His  horses  were 
not  tired.  He  could  maintain  his  present  pace  to  the 
end. 

"  The  fifth  ovum  is  down.  Only  two  rounds  more 
and  the  Arabians  are  far  behind,"  cried  Naarah  in 
despair.  "  Oh,  what  a  stupid  driver !  I  believe  those 
beautiful  Arabs  are  the  swiftest  of  them  all  if  they 
were  only  put  to  their  mettle.  But  it  is  too  late.  The 
race  is  really  over." 

"  Perhaps  only  begun,"  observed  Merari.  "  The 
driver  is  wiser  than  you  think.  If  I  am  not  mistaken, 
the  whole  situation  will  be  changed  before  this  heat  is 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         221 

finished." 

Merari's  prophecy  was  quickly  justified.  It  had 
been  part  of  the  Syrian's  plan  to  allow  all  the  others  to 
outstrip  him.  Just  before  him  were  the  plainly  de 
feated  Persians,  tired  but  still  running  gallantly.  A 
little  distance  ahead  were  the  Calabrians,  vainly  en 
deavoring  to  overtake  the  grays  who,  however, 
stretched  along  the  course  so  furiously  that  they  did 
not  yield  a  foot  of  the  lead  they  had  gained.  But  as 
the  Syrian  completed  the  fifth  round  by  a  skillful  turn 
of  the  goal  post,  he  bent  forward  and  gave  a  shrill 
whistle.  Instantly  the  Arabians  quickened  their  pace. 
Easily  they  passed  by  the  Persians.  They  gained  on 
the  Calabrians  so  rapidly  that  the  driver  of  the  cream 
colored  horses  began  to  ply  the  lash.  It  was  all  in 
vain.  The  fleet  Arabians  tore  past  him  and  were  able 
to  take  the  inside  of  the  track  before  this  first  half  of 
the  round  was  completed  and  the  first  goal  post  turned. 
Passing  it  dexterously,  the  Syrian  whistled  again  and 
the  obedient  blacks  began  to  close  the  distance  that  still 
separated  them  from  the  seemingly  tireless  grays. 

Gallantly  did  the  pink  clad  driver  struggle  to  main 
tain  his  lead.  He  urged  his  horses  to  their  utmost. 
They  responded  to  his  call,  but,  already  heavily  taxed, 
they  could  not  materially  quicken  their  pace.  Steadily 
the  Arabians  gained.  Now  the  two  pairs  were  neck 
and  neck.  Now  the  blacks  drew  ahead,  took  the  in 
side  of  the  course  and  rounded  the  goal  in  advance  of 
their  rivals. 

All  through  this  sixth  round  the  spectators  had 
watched  in  silence.  The  tension  was  too  great  to  allow 


222         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

any  general  manifestations  of  feeling.  But  now  there 
burst  forth  a  storm  of  approving  cries,  jeers,  and  ex 
clamations  of  rage  and  disappointment.  For  while  the 
majority  of  the  spectators  were  won  by  the  dexterity 
of  the  Syrian  and  the  fleetness  of  his  steeds,  there  were 
many  Romans  whose  pride  made  them  angry  and  bit 
ter,  there  were  others  who  had  staked  such  large  sums 
on  the  Calabrians  that  they  waxed  wrathful  and  mali 
cious  now  that  their  defeat  seemed  sure. 

But  was  it  sure?  These  malcontents,  who  had 
wagered  larger  sums  on  the  cream  colored  coursers 
than  they  could  afford  to  lose,  had  not  left  the  result 
to  mere  fleetness  of  foot  and  skill  in  handling  the  reins. 
Trickery  is  the  ally  of  the  evil-minded;  and  where  did 
trickery  ever  find  a  more  alluring  field  than  the  race 
course?  Even  while  the  Syrian  swept  down  the  sands 
and  completed  the  first  half  of  the  final  round,  strange 
things  were  happening  on  the  other  side  of  the  splna. 
The  grays,  so  at  least  it  seemed  to  the  excited  con 
course  of  spectators,  had  become  unmanageable. 
They  careered  wildly  about.  They  did  not  turn  the 
goal  post  so  as  to  begin  the  seventh  and  final  heat,  but, 
after  plunging  in  various  directions,  careered  back  over 
the  course  they  had  just  traversed.  Apparently 
startled  at  seeing  one  of  the  chariots  dashing  back 
upon  them,  the  Persians  became  unmanageable,  too, 
and  likewise  turned  about  in  their  tracks.  The  Cala 
brians,  however,  steadily  pursued  their  way,  rounded 
the  goal  and  began  the  seventh  circuit  some  distance 
behind  the  black  Arabians. 

Both  of  these  pairs  completed  the  first  half  of  the 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         223 

final  round  without  incident,  for  they  had  the  course 
all  to  themselves.  The  only  noticeable  feature  of  this 
phase  of  the  race  was  that  the  Arabians  slightly  in 
creased  their  already  considerable  lead.  It  was  when 
the  goal  had  been  turned  for  the  last  time  that  the 
Syrian  driver  found  trouble  was  in  store  for  him.  Not 
that  there  seemed  to  be  anything  threatening  in  the 
situation.  The  grays  and  the  milk-white  Persians  had 
now  become  manageable.  Both  pairs,  though  out  of 
the  race,  were  moving  slowly  and  quietly  toward  the 
first  starting  point,  the  one  on  the  extreme  left  of  the 
course,  the  other  on  the  extreme  right.  A  perfectly 
simple  and  easy  matter  it  appeared  for  the  Arabian 
pair  to  dash  rapidly  between  these  two  defeated  char 
iots  and  go  thundering  on  with  such  a  lead  as  to  rob 
the  finish  of  excitement. 

Exactly  this  the  Syrian  tried  to  do.  It  was  the 
natural,  the  only  thing  for  him  to  do.  But  in  attempt 
ing  it  he  found  himself  obstructed.  Before  he  could 
pass  the  Boeotian  and  the  Persian  chariots,  they  closed 
in  upon  him  and  so  rapidly  as  to  make  the  wreck  of  his 
own  chariot  seem  certain.  Foul  play  was  manifestly 
being  employed  against  the  matchless  Arabians  and 
their  driver.  For  this  was  the  pair  which  discerning 
judges  had  seen  to  be  superior  before  the  race  began. 
They  must  therefore  be  defeated  by  shameful  means 
if  they  could  not  be  outstripped  in  honorable  rivalry. 
The  immense  sums  at  stake  as  well  as  the  prestige  of 
Rome  demanded  this.  Hence  persons  of  high  rank 
and  station  who  had  offered  odds  on  the  Calabrians 
and  who  had  seen  in  the  Arabians  the  most  formidable 


224         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

obstacle  to  the  success  of  their  own  plans,  had  bribed 
the  drivers  of  the  Persians  and  the  Boeotians  to  com 
bine  against  the  Syrian  driver  in  case  they  found  that 
they  could  not  win  themselves. 

The  Syrian  seemed  lost  and  a  thrill  of  satisfaction 
ran  through  the  fickle  crowd  of  spectators.  Even 
those  who  had  just  applauded  his  nice  judgment  and 
his  perfect  command  of  his  horses  now  turned  against 
him.  They  gloated  over  the  prospect  of  a  catastro 
phe,  and  for  trickery  they  had  no  righteous  indignation. 
Their  Roman  pride  would  be  gratified  if  the  Syrian 
were  sacrificed  in  a  collision  and  the  cream  colored 
steeds  were  thus  enabled  to  snatch  victory  from  defeat. 
Breathless  they  watched  the  two  hopelessly  vanquished 
chariots  close  in  upon  that  of  the  Syrian  and  waited  for 
the  crash  of  collision. 

But  the  crash  did  not  come.  Just  at  the  instant 
when  it  seemed  unavoidable  the  Syrian  uttered  three 
loud  guttural  sounds  in  close  succession.  With  mar 
velous  quickness  his  horses  brought  the  chariot  to  a 
standstill.  With  equal  celerity  and  precision  they 
darted  forward  again  at  his  prompting.  The  two 
chariots  that  had  tried  to  wreck  his  own  barely  avoided 
crashing  together,  and  before  the  two  outwitted  drivers 
had  taken  in  the  situation  the  Syrian  had  passed  by 
them  on  the  left,  which  was  always  the  inside  of  a 
Roman  race-course,  and  was  flying  after  the  Calabri- 
ans  which  were  now  to  the  fore.  For  the  driver  of 
the  cream  colored  horses  had  made  the  most  of  his 
opportunity  at  the  moment  when  the  Arabians  had  been 
brought  to  a  halt  to  avoid  disaster.  He  had  thun- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         225 

dered  by  triumphantly  and,  now  clearly  in  the  lead,  he 
felt  almost  sure  that  treachery  had  won  for  him  what 
the  merit  of  his  coursers  could  not  have  gained. 

The  Syrian  was,  to  be  sure,  only  three  chariot 
lengths  behind  and  his  black  steeds  were  unquestion 
ably  of  better  wind  and  fleeter  pace.  But  the  line  that 
marked  the  finish  was  very  near.  Could  those  desert 
coursers  overcome  that  decided  lead  when  the  terminus 
was  only  three  hundred  feet  away?  The  exulting 
spectators  were  sure  that  they  could  not.  A  thunder 
ous  roar  arose  from  the  maddened  concourse  as,  like 
one  man,  it  vented  its  joy  in  the  anticipated  triumph. 
"The  Calabrians!"  "The  Calabrians!"  "Rome 
forever!  "  were  the  cries  that  rent  the  air  and  drowned 
utterly  the  loud  beat  of  the  iron  hoofs. 

But  the  cheering  died  almost  as  quickly  as  it  began. 
For  the  last  time  did  the  Syrian  bend  forward  and  give 
that  low  shrill  whistle;  and  in  spite  of  the  vast  strain 
that  had  been  put  upon  their  powers  the  gallant  steeds 
were  able  to  respond.  Steadily  they  gained  upon  the 
cream  colored  coursers.  They  were  almost  abreast  of 
them.  They  were  neck  and  neck.  They  were  gaining 
still  —  but  the  finish  line  had  been  passed,  and  which 
had  won?  In  a  tense  breathless  silence  the  spectators 
had  watched  the  ending.  Now,  loud  queries  rose 
from  every  side.  They  were  followed  by  curses  and 
cries  of  rage  when  it  was  noised  everywhere  that  the 
Arabians  had  won  by  a  neck.  Yet  when  the  excitement 
had  cooled,  not  a  few  fair-minded  persons  lauded  the 
skill  and  resource  of  the  Syrian  who  had  so  fully  mer 
ited  his  victory;  and  his  success  filled  Naarah  with  un- 


226         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

bounded  enthusiasm.  Her  enjoyment  was  as  spontane 
ous  and  hearty  as  that  of  a  child,  and  was  so  contagious 
that  her  grandfather  could  not  help  sharing  her  lively 
satisfaction. 

"  You  make  me  feel  so  young  that  I  am  ashamed," 
he  said  to  Naarah.  '  That  I,  an  old  man,  should  for 
get  my  books  and  all  the  deep  meditations  of  years 
and  watch  galloping  horses  with  the  interest  of  a  child. 
I  did  not  think  it  was  in  me  to  be  so  foolish." 

"  You  will  be  all  the  wiser  for  it  in  the  end,  grand 
father.  You  said  your  brain  was  withered  and  I  am 
sure  it  will  feel  fresher  after  this.  How  I  should 
laugh  if  you  told  me  to-morrow  morning  that  you  had 
been  dreaming  of  horse  races  in  the  night !  The 
Prophets  would  feel  badly,  I  fear.  If  Jeremiah  were 
to  come  to  earth  again,  he  would  have  to  write  a  new 
Lamentation." 

"  Ah,  Naarah,  Naarah!  I  fear  that  long  hair  of 
Absalom's  has  spoiled  all  taste  you  might  ever  have 
had  for  the  Prophets." 

The  races  were  followed  by  athletic  contests  and 
trials  of  skill  and  endurance.  Some  powerful  Greek 
wrestlers  gave  an  exhibition  of  their  art  which  Naarah 
might  have  enjoyed  had  not  the  falls  been  sometimes, 
as  it  seemed  to  her,  needlessly  rough  and  violent. 
Wonderful  skill  with  the  javelin  was  displayed  by  a 
troop  of  Mauretanians ;  slingers  from  the  Balearic 
Isles  and  archers  from  Crete  also  showed  rare  mastery 
of  their  respective  weapons.  But  these  pastimes, 
which  were  so  easily  kept  free  from  the  elements  of 
danger  and  sensation,  did  not  satisfy  the  Roman  taste 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         227 

unless  they  involved  peril  to  human  life.  After  the 
Cretans  had  shot  at  an  ordinary  target  and  riddled  it 
with  arrows,  several  thieves  were  brought  into  the 
arena,  tied  to  planks  with  ropes  and  told  that  they 
could  have  their  liberty  if  they  did  not  lose  their  lives 
while  the  archers  cut  their  bonds  in  two  with  sharp 
pointed  arrows.  This  savage  form  of  entertainment 
was  vastly  pleasing  to  the  populace;  but  Naarah  cov 
ered  her  face  with  her  hands  while  it  lasted.  She  was 
much  relieved  when  her  grandfather  finally  told  her 
it  was  over  and  that  no  one  of  the  men  was  killed, 
though  one  of  them  seemed  to  be  rather  badly 
wounded.  No  more  could  she  bear  to  look  upon  the 
boxing  with  the  cestus;  for  even  though  not  as  bar 
barous  as  the  contest  so  graphically  described  by  Ver 
gil,  it  was  by  no  means  free  from  brutality. 

At  its  conclusion  a  long  and  loud  flourish  was 
sounded  on  the  trumpets,  and  the  assemblage  knew  that 
the  spectacle  most  dear  to  the  Roman  heart  was  now 
to  begin.  The  gladiators  were  to  enter  the  arena. 


XXII 

A  MOMENT  of  stillness  followed  the  blare  of 
the    trumpets.     Then    there    were    approving 
shouts  and  bursts  of  applause,  as  the  two  gladi 
ators  who  were  to  begin  the  bloody  sport  marched  into 
the  arena.     They  proceeded  directly  to  the  seats  as 
signed  to  the  imperial  circle.     In  front  of  these  they 
halted,  gave  the  gladiators'  well  known  salutation,  and 
placed  themselves  for  the  fray. 

As  they  entered  the  arena  Merari  reminded  his 
granddaughter  that  it  was  time  for  them  to  go.  Naa- 
rah,  however,  insisted  on  remaining  till  the  gladiators 
had  made  their  salutation.  She  wished  to  have  just 
one  good  look  at  them  in  all  their  bravery.  She  was 
seated  so  near  the  imperial  company  that  she  was  sure 
to  see  them  to  advantage.  As  they  began  their  march, 
she  gazed  at  them  with  mingled  wonder  and  pity.  As 
they  came  opposite  to  her,  she  fixed  her  eyes  intently 
upon  one  of  them,  a  swarthy  Afric  who  towered  above 
his  broad-shouldered  but  low  statured  companion. 

As  the  two  saluted,  Merari  rose  and  looked  at 
Naarah,  not  doubting  that  she  would  leave  her  seat 
without  being  bidden  and  accompany  him.  To  his  sur 
prise  she  continued  to  gaze  searchingly  at  the  two  glad 
iators  and  seemed  quite  oblivious  of  him. 

"  Come,  Naarah!"  he  said  somewhat  impatiently. 
'  We  really  must  not  linger  any  longer." 

328 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         229 

"  I  cannot  go,  grandfather,"  she  answered,  glancing 
at  him  for  an  instant  with  a  face  that  was  as  white  as 
the  robe  she  wore.  "  I  must  stay  and  watch." 

"Impossible,  child!  Impossible!"  cried  Merari, 
both  puzzled  and  vexed  by  this  utterly  incomprehensi 
ble  change  of  mind.  "  You  know  it  was  fully  under 
stood  between  us  that  we  would  not  stay  to  see  the 
gladiators  contend." 

"  I  know  it  was,"  replied  Naarah,  with  her  eyes  still 
on  the  two  gladiators,  "  but  I  must  stay.  I  really  can 
not  go." 

Merari  was  deeply  disturbed.  That  Naarah  should 
remain  was  intolerable  to  him,  yet  he  knew  not  how  to 
compel  her  will.  He  would  make  one  more  appeal. 

"  I  beg  of  you  to  come  away,"  he  said.  "  In  the 
name  of  your  father  and  mother  I  ask  you  not  to  re 
main  and  witness  this  bloody  sport." 

Naarah  looked  at  him  with  a  face  full  of  grief  and 
sorrow. 

"  I  cannot  explain  here,  grandfather,"  was  her  an 
swer,  "  but  I  must  stay.  Do  not  say  any  more !  " 

Merari  submitted  and  took  his  seat  again.  He  did 
not  know  what  else  to  do.  The  colloquy  had  already 
excited  some  interest  and  attention,  and  he  was  unwil 
ling  to  cause  further  comment.  He  had  spoken  in  the 
Syro-Chaldaic  dialect,  then  used  in  Palestine,  after 
Naarah's  first  refusal;  but  his  tones  and  attitude  plainly 
betokened  that  he  was  meeting  with  resistance  to  his 
wishes,  and  to  insist  further  was  to  make  a  scene.  So, 
most  unexpectedly  and  with  no  little  chagrin  and  won 
der,  he  found  himself  witnessing  a  spectacle  he  had 


23o         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

never  thought  to  look  upon. 

That  the  tall  gladiator  who  passed  as  an  Afric  was 
Marcus,  hardly  needs  to  be  said.  He  was  carrying 
out  the  suggestions  made  by  Delphium  in  every  partic 
ular.  With  her  aid  he  had  disguised  himself.  Side 
by  side  with  Styrax  he  had  marched  into  the  arena,  and 
he  was  now  to  lay  the  Thracian  low  or  himself  meet  an 
ignoble  end.  His  contest  was  the  first  one  called. 
Piso  would  gladly  have  arranged  it  otherwise;  for  he 
knew  that  this  would  be  the  most  spirited  and  desper 
ate  encounter  of  the  day  and  would  excite  the  deepest 
interest,  and  it  was  the  custom  to  reserve  the  fiercest 
duels  to  the  last.  But  Marcus  had  imperatively  de 
manded  that  he  and  Styrax  should  be  the  first  to  close. 
So  the  two  had  marched  into  the  arena  together  when 
the  trumpet  first  rang  forth  its  summons. 

Styrax  knew  well  who  it  was  that  was  pitted  against 
him.  The  moment  Marcus  appeared  among  the 
twelve  gladiators  who  were  to  furnish  the  martial  sport 
of  the  day,  he  recognized  him  and  his  fierce  eyes 
gleamed  with  satisfaction. 

"Aha,  my  dainty  patrician!"  he  exclaimed.  "So 
you  were  not  content  with  laying  me  sprawling  but 
thought  you  would  have  my  life-blood  also.  Well, 
take  your  last  look  at  the  sun,  you  vile  dog!  You'll 
never  see  it  again." 

"  You  called  me  a  coward,"  answered  Marcus.  "  I 
am  showing  you  I  am  not  one.  No  more  words  will 
I  have  with  you." 

They  took  their  places  in  the  arena,  and  the  combat 
was  on.  The  only  weapon  allowed  them  was  the 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         231 

short,  two-edged,  sharp-pointed  sword,  which  the  Ro 
man  legionaries  used  with  such  deadly  effect  in  their 
encounters  with  poorly  armed  and  poorly  disciplined 
adversaries.  It  was,  indeed,  the  most  murderous 
weapon  ever  devised  for  close  combat  on  the  battle 
field;  for  every  time  it  found  its  mark  it  meant  almost 
certain  death.  The  Roman  soldier  was  trained  to 
grasp  it  and  use  it  as  a  huge  dagger.  He  stabbed;  he 
seldom  hewed.  Hence,  if  he  broke  through  his 
enemy's  guard  and  fleshed  his  weapon,  he  inflicted  no 
mere  annoying  or  disabling  surface  wound.  He 
reached  a  vital  part  and  drew  his  sword  out  of  a  dead 
or  a  dying  man.  It  was  with  this  terrible  implement 
of  destruction  that  the  Romans  sometimes  converted 
a  battle  into  a  massacre,  as  when  they  annihilated  the 
Cimbri  and  the  Teutons  on  the  Raudian  Plains  or  wiped 
whole  tribes  of  Gauls  and  Belgians  out  of  existence. 
For  these  brave  peoples  could  not  parry  the  deadly 
thrust  of  the  disciplined  and  hardy  Roman  legionary 
after  their  formation  was  broken  up  and  battle  became 
little  more  than  an  unending  series  of  hand-to-hand 
encounters. 

The  defensive  armor  allowed  the  gladiators  was 
the  same  that  the  Roman  soldier  habitually  wore.  He 
had  a  helmet,  greaves,  and  a  round  metal-covered 
shield.  Sometimes  a  shield  alone  was  given  him  in 
order  that  the  conflict  might  be  shorter  and  more  sav 
age.  But  Piso  was  a  humane  man  and  did  not  require 
the  gladiators  to  engage  in  their  furious  contests  with 
out  affording  them  all  the  protection  which  the  tradi 
tions  of  the  battle-field  warranted.  Hence,  the  task  of 


23  2         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

the  gladiator  was  the  same  as  that  of  the  Roman  sol 
dier  when  he  met  the  enemy  in  close  combat.  It  was 
his  aim  to  get  past  his  opponent's  guard  and  bury  his 
weapon  in  the  body  by  a  well  delivered  thrust.  But  if 
he  could  previously  disable  him  or  make  his  movements 
slow  and  cumbrous  by  inflicting  one  or  more  serious 
flesh  wounds,  his  ultimate  purpose  would  be  more  easily 
accomplished. 

Now,  it  took  Marcus  only  a  moment  to  see  that  this 
was  the  intention  of  the  wily  Thracian.  The  first 
thing  he  noticed  when  he  stood  facing  him  was  that 
Styrax  was  holding  his  sword,  not  to  thrust  but  to  slash 
and  hew.  It  was  plain,  therefore,  that  he  would  begin 
the  conflict  by  trying  to  maim  Marcus,  so  that  he  could 
no  longer  be  master  of  himself.  Then  it  would  be  no 
very  difficult  thing  to  get  past  Marcus'  guard  by  a 
quick  and  sudden  attack  and  inflict  a  fatal  wound.  To 
carry  out  this  cunning  scheme,  so  Marcus  reasoned, 
Styrax  would  strike  at  those  parts  of  the  body  which 
did  not  cover  vital  organs  and  which  were  not  easily 
protected  by  the  shield.  That  the  Thracian  would 
strike  at  him  below  the  waist  he  was  convinced;  and 
against  such  an  assault  he  determined  to  be  on  his 
guard. 

Each  of  the  combatants  was  so  intent  on  fathoming 
the  other's  strategy  that  for  a  short  time  there  was 
nothing  but  feinting.  Styrax  in  particular  rushed  for 
ward  again  and  again  with  sword  uplifted,  but  he 
dodged  back  so  quickly  that  his  stroke  had  no  force 
and  was  parried  almost  without  effort.  To  these  sal 
lies  Marcus  sometimes  responded  by  a  similar  feigned 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         233 

aggressiveness  that  was  void  of  real  force  and  positive 
menace. 

"  Coward!"  hissed  Styrax.  "  You  don't  dare  to 
come  at  me  like  a  man." 

u  Come  at  me  yourself,"  replied  Marcus,  "  if  you 
really  mean  to  fight.  A  word  to  Piso  and  I  can  with 
draw  from  the  encounter  at  any  time." 

This  threat  infuriated  Styrax,  as  Marcus  intended 
that  it  should,  and  he  now  came  on  like  a  maddened 
wild  beast  that  has  been  wounded  and  has  lost  all  cau 
tion.  Crouching  low  and  well  protected  by  his  shield, 
he  darted  forward,  smote  hard,  retreated  the  very  in 
stant  his  stroke  was  given,  and  then  came  on  again 
with  only  the  briefest  respite.  His  eyes,  which 
gleamed  with  savage  hatred,  were  constantly  fixed  on 
those  of  his  adversary,  and  he  gave  no  clue  to  his  point 
of  attack  as  he  leaped  forward  again  and  again  and 
wielded  his  sword  with  terrific  and  undiminished  power. 
Above  the  shield  of  Marcus  and  below  it,  to  the  right 
of  it  and  the  left  of  it,  the  blade  of  the  Thracian  flashed 
and  hissed;  and  the  clang  of  the  swords  as  the  des 
perate  swinging  strokes  were  parried  was  like  the  ring 
of  an  anvil  under  an  unceasing  shower  of  blows. 

But  parried  they  all  were.  With  untiring  arm  and 
never  failing  skill,  Marcus  always  met  the  sweeping 
blade  of  his  opponent  with  a  defense  so  firm  that  to 
wear  it  down  seemed  like  trying  to  mow  down  a  giant 
oak  with  a  scythe.  And  yet  a  vigorous  defense  was  all 
that  Marcus  found  himself  so  far  able  to  attempt. 
Styrax  had  taken  desperate  chances,  and  in  parrying 
some  of  his  wildest  swings,  Marcus  could  have  pressed 


234         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

his  own  blade  home  before  his  furious  opponent  had 
an  opportunity  to  recover  and  continue  his  fierce  as 
sault.  But  the  counter  stroke  was  never  given.  To 
his  own  surprise,  Marcus  found  that  the  lust  for  bat 
tle  and  blood  was  not  in  him.  Now  that  it  was  too 
late,  he  realized  that  Lentulus  had  viewed  the  whole 
matter  rightly.  It  was  well  that  the  Thracian  should 
be  killed,  but  Marcus  was  not  the  one  to  kill  him.  He 
was  an  evil  brute.  He  cumbered  the  earth.  Yet  to 
slaughter  him  was  a  butchery  and  Marcus  had  no  heart 
for  it.  He  could  have  rushed  against  the  enemies  of 
his  country  with  a  passionate  joy  and  raged  upon  the 
battlefield  as  Diomed  did  when  Athene  fired  his  heart 
and  nerved  his  arm,  or  as  Achilles  did  to  avenge  the 
death  of  Patroclus.  But  he  felt  no  animosity  toward 
the  savage  Thracian.  He  felt  nothing  but  disgust  with 
himself  that  he  had  undertaken  the  miserable  task  of 
killing  him.  He  disliked  to  strike  him  down,  and  even 
his  defense,  skillful  as  it  was,  lacked  energy  and  spirit. 
To  Styrax  his  conduct  was  quite  surprising.  Ut 
terly  unable  to  understand  or  appreciate  Marcus' 
scruples,  he  naturally  attributed  to  timidity  what  was 
due  to  an  elevated  mind  and  character.  Therefore, 
after  resting  a  brief  space  from  his  first  furious  on 
slaught,  he  resumed  the  attack  and  if  possible  with 
even  greater  fury.  He  now  felt  sure  of  success,  and 
the  thought  elated  him  and  nerved  him  to  put  all  his 
strength  into  every  stroke.  And  his  elation  seemed 
in  a  measure  justified.  Skill  alone  will  not  make  an 
entirely  successful  defense.  A  vigorous  assault  must 
be  met  with  equal  vigor  or  the  lack  of  balance  in  the 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         235 

contending  forces  will  cause  the  advantage  to  rest  with 
the  side  that  has  the  preponderance  of  will  and  energy. 
Less  impetuous  than  his  adversary,  Marcus  was  no 
longer  unfailingly  alert  in  avoiding  him.  Twice  the 
vicious  blows  of  Styrax  were  imperfectly  parried,  and 
Marcus  received  a  flesh  wound  between  the  knee  and 
the  thigh  and  a  gash  below  the  temple  which  caused 
one  side  of  his  face  to  be  covered  with  blood.  But 
still  the  Thracian  was  unable  to  inflict  a  disabling 
wound. 

Unexpectedly  baffled,  he  now  determined  to  resort 
to  trickery.  Thus  far,  Marcus  had  met  with  no 
method  of  attack  which  he  was  not  readily  able  to 
fathom  and  counter.  But  Styrax  now  advanced  rap 
idly,  stretched  to  his  full  height  and  with  sword  lifted 
as  high  as  possible,  as  if  to  deliver  a  terrific  down 
stroke  on  the  shoulder  or  the  head.  The  down  stroke, 
however,  never  fell.  With  the  quickness  of  the  pan 
ther  or  the  serpent  that  strikes  from  his  coils,  the 
Thracian  dropped  close  to  the  ground,  darted  under 
neath  Marcus'  guard,  passed  by  his  right  side  and 
delivered  a  vicious  swinging  back-stroke  at  the  upper 
portion  of  his  leg. 

Nothing  but  Marcus'  extraordinary  agility  saved 
him  from  receiving  a  wound  that  would  have  settled 
the  combat.  He  leaped  to  one  side  as  Styrax  dropped 
suddenly  earthward  and  so  far  evaded  him  as  to  re 
ceive  only  another  severe  flesh  wound  instead  of  a  cut 
that  would  have  reached  the  bone  and  severed  an 
artery.  But  he  was  now  bleeding  in  three  places, 
whereas  his  opponent  was  as  yet  untouched.  And  this 


236         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

third  wound,  inflicted  as  it  was  by  an  attack  that  would 
not  pass  as  fair  and  legitimate,  had  at  last  excited  his 
ire.  The  battle  frenzy  had  been  roused  in  him.  He 
was  eager  to  smite  and  slay,  if  slay  he  could  when 
facing  such  a  tireless  and  vindictive  adversary. 

Styrax,  accordingly,  found  that  he  was  meeting  a 
new  antagonist  when  the  two  closed  once  more.  It 
was  Marcus  who  now  took  the  aggressive.  His  eye 
flamed  with  the  lust  of  conflict,  and  the  Thracian 
quailed  under  the  terrific  blows  which  the  young  Ro 
man  giant  rained  upon  him.  He  did  succeed  in  get 
ting  past  Marcus'  guard  and  dealing  him  a  wound  in 
the  breast;  but  he  received  a  deeper  one  in  return  and 
was  conscious  that  superior  strength  and  superior  skill 
were  now  employed  against  him.  His  hope  lay  in 
craft  and  cunning,  and  he  still  had  one  trick  at  his 
command  that  he  had  used  with  entire  success  when 
practicing  the  fence  with  his  only  intimate  associate 
among  the  gladiators.  Could  he  employ  it  against 
such  an  adroit  and  powerful  opponent  as  the  young 
Roman?  Eagerly  he  watched  for  an  opportunity  and 
the  desired  moment  came.  In  parrying  an  ineffective 
stroke,  he  dexterously  contrived  to  catch  his  opponent's 
blade  between  his  own  sword  and  the  rim  of  his  shield, 
and  by  a  sudden  and  powerful  twist  he  sent  it  flying 
into  the  air.  In  an  instant,  before  Marcus  could  quite 
realize  what  had  so  unexpectedly  happened,  Styrax  was 
standing  over  the  weapon  and  facing  an  unarmed  and 
seemingly  defenseless  antagonist.  His  moment  for 
vengeance  had  now  come.  His  eyes  were  lit  with  a 
savage  joy,  and  with  a  shout  of  triumph  he  launched 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         237 

himself  upon  his  foe,  now  for  the  first  time  clasping 
his  sword  like  a  dagger  to  give  the  fatal  stab. 

Marcus  seemed  doomed,  but,  quick-witted  as  he  al 
ways  was,  he  saw  one  slight  chance  of  saving  himself. 
If  he  acted  merely  on  the  defensive,  he  was  surely  lost. 
Hacho's  advice,  to  be  the  aggressor  and  force  the  fight, 
flashed  into  his  mind,  and  he  determined  to  assume  the 
offensive  now.  It  was  a  forlorn  hope,  a  man  with  only 
a  shield  against  an  opponent  who  had  both  shield  and 
sword;  but  it  was  his  only  one.  Tightening  the  hold 
he  had  upon  his  shield  with  his  left  hand,  he  also  seized 
it  firmly  by  the  rim  with  the  right  and  launched  him 
self  against  his  oncoming  foe  with  all  his  force. 

The  shock  was  terrific.  Shield  clashed  against 
shield  almost  as  a  battering  ram  would  strike  against 
an  iron  door,  and  it  was  the  less  stable  bulk  that  had 
to  give.  The  stab  that  Styrax  intended  was  indeed 
delivered,  but  it  was  shorn  of  its  power  and  only  in 
flicted  another  flesh  wound,  and  this  time  a  very  slight 
one,  in  the  breast;  while  he  himself  was  hurled  several 
feet  backward  and  fell  supine,  the  combined  shock  of 
the  concussion  and  the  fall  causing  his  own  sword  to 
pass  from  his  grasp.  Marcus  seized  it  before  the 
Thracian  could  recover  himself  and  possessed  himself 
of  his  own  weapon  also.  Then,  while  the  vast  crowd 
of  excited  spectators  burst  into  loud  cheering  and  thun 
ders  of  applause,  he  grimly  handed  Styrax  his  weapon 
and  faced  him  for  the  final  round  of  this  protracted 
but  fierce  and  deadly  conflict.  Final  it  was  bound  to 
be,  for  each  man  was  sure  to  fight  with  the  grimmest 
resolution  and  the  fixed  intent  to  kill. 


238         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

Again  Marcus  assaulted  with  tremendous  energy, 
and  again  Styrax  resorted  to  craft  as  the  only  means 
of  countering  his  opponent's  skill  and  force.  But 
Marcus  read  his  intention.  He  saw  the  Thracian 
change  his  grasp  upon  his  sword  so  that  he  could  slash 
and  cut  with  it  instead  of  thrusting,  and  he  knew  at 
once  that  this  meant  another  attempt  to  pass  below  his 
guard  by  a  low  and  sudden  stoop.  The  attempt  was 
made  and  it  found  him  prepared  to  meet  it.  He 
stepped  nimbly  out  of  harm's  way  and,  turning  upon 
the  Thracian,  laid  him  low  by  a  powerful  thrust 
through  the  back.  In  the  earlier  stages  of  the  conflict 
he  would  not  have  been  willing  to  strike  his  adversary 
from  behind.  Indeed,  he  would  have  scorned  to  do 
so,  but  his  patience  was  exhausted.  He  had  shown 
the  man  magnanimity  and  he  had  met  with  trickery 
in  return.  He  did  not  scruple,  therefore,,  to  end  the 
affair  in  any  way  he  could. 

Styrax  was  mortally  wounded,  but  neither  he  nor 
Marcus  realized  it.  The  dying  man  looked  anxiously 
up  to  the  sea  of  faces  and  stretched  forth  his  hand  in 
dumb  pleading  for  compassion.  He  saw  only  the  hard 
vindictive  look  and  the  long  lines  of  down-turned 
thumbs.  His  unscrupulous  methods  of  fighting  had 
turned  the  whole  body  of  spectators  against  him. 
Without  a  groan  or  a  murmur  he  resigned  himself  to 
his  fate,  fixed  his  eyes  on  Marcus  with  a  malignant  ex 
pression  and  said, 

"  Strike,  you  cur!     But  know  that  I  hate  you  still." 

But  Marcus  had  no  will  or  inclination  to  strike. 
The  battle  rage  had  wholly  died  away  in  his  heart  and 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         239 

he  felt  nothing  but  pity  for  the  wounded  man  who  lay 
helpless  before  him  on  the  ground.  He  looked  up  to 
the  spectators,  but  he  saw  only  the  down-turned  thumbs 
and  the  relentless  faces;  and  loud  shouts  of  "  Kill!  " 
assailed  his  ears.  He  raised  his  sword  irresolutely 
and  then  let  it  fall;  for  it  was  not  in  him  to  do  the 
brutal  deed.  Again  he  looked  to  the  benches,  and  this 
time,  to  his  astonishment  and  horror,  he  got  sight  of 
Naarah,  sitting  near  him  and  gazing  at  him  with  a 
blanched  and  pitying  face.  The  emotions  that  were 
roused  by  this  startling  vision  and  the  long  strain  of 
the  combat  with  its  drain  upon  his  life-blood,  proved 
overpowering.  The  sea  of  faces  became  blurred  and 
faded  from  his  sight.  He  reeled  for  a  moment, 
dropped  sword  and  shield,  and  fell  upon  the  blood 
stained  sands. 


XXIII 

<4^>1  O,  Naarah,  you  think  the  big  African,  who 
^^k  treated  his  enemy  so  generously  and  then  dealt 
*^J  him  a  death-wound  was  no  other  than  the  son 
of  the  Prefect." 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,  grandfather,"  answered  Naarah, 
as  the  two  sat  together  in  her  apartment  the  evening 
after  the  gladiatorial  contest.  Naturally  they  could 
think  and  speak  of  little  else  than  the  thrilling  spec 
tacle  they  had  just  witnessed.  Yet  it  was  Merari  who 
broached  the  subject.  Naarah  responded  readily  to 
his  queries,  but  was  more  inclined  to  brood  in  silence 
over  the  exciting  events  of  the  day  than  to  speak  of 
them. 

"  It  seems  hardly  possible,"  resumed  Merari. 
"  Why  should  a  Roman  of  his  birth  and  station  de 
mean  himself  by  fighting  with  a  coarse  and  brutal  ruf 
fian  and  taking  his  life  before  the  greedy,  shouting 
populace?  " 

"  That  I  can  not  explain.  Yet  it  seemed  to  me  that 
the  two  men  had  a  private  quarrel  which  they  were 
settling  in  that  terrible  way." 

"  That  would  be  strange.  But  if  quarrel  there  was, 
it  was  settled  forever.  No  man  could  outlive  that  ter 
rific  blow  which  the  defeated  gladiator  received.  But 
it  served  him  right.  He  fought  like  a  wild  beast,  not 
like  a  man." 

240 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         241 

"  But  are  you  sure  he  was  wounded  to  the  death? 
He  pleaded  for  mercy  and  I  think  the  Roman  feigned 
faintness  as  the  only  way  of  sparing  him." 

"  He  did  not  want  to  stab  a  dying  man.  But  he 
must  have  known  the  man  was  dying.  If  he  had  aught 
against  him,  he  had  terribly  avenged  himself.  But 
why  are  you  so  interested  in  him,  Naarah?  You  do 
not  really  know  him." 

Naarah  smiled  faintly  as  she  answered,  "  Don't  ask 
a  maid  to  explain  things  she  can  not  explain  herself  I 
No,  I  do  not  know  the  young  Roman.  Most  surely 
I  shall  never  meet  or  see  him  again.  But  when  I  saw 
that  he  was  to  fight  and  that  he  might  be  killed,  I  could 
not  come  away  till  I  knew  how  the  matter  ended.  It 
would  have  been  such  a  dreadful  thing  for  a  strong 
man  like  him  to  be  cut  down  in  his  prime.  I  believe 
there  is  much  good  in  him." 

"  And  much  evil,  too,  I  fear.  A  youth  who  kisses 
girls  upon  the  street  and  fights  in  the  arena  in  disguise 
must  have  a  wild  and  vicious  strain  in  him." 

With  this  disquieting  suggestion,  Merari  dropped 
the  subject.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  Naarah  could 
have  any  sentimental  regard  for  a  man  of  an  alien 
race  who  seemed  like  a  huge  and  untamed  savage  and 
whose  career  was  likely  to  be  marked  by  many  a  riotous 
and  stormy  deed/  But  he  could  not  refrain  from  giv 
ing  a  veiled  warning;  for  Naarah  was  young,  and  what 
emotions  will  possess  the  heart  of  a  generous  and  spir 
ited  girl  the  wisest  can  never  foresee. 

Marcus  and  the  dying  Styrax  were  borne  at  the  same 
time  from  the  arena.  The  Thracian  breathed  his  last 


242         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

just  as  Marcus  came  fully  to  his  senses.  Hacho,  with 
another  trusty  soldier,  bore  his  master  to  his  home, 
where  he  lay  on  his  bed  for  the  greater  part  of  a  month 
while  his  wounds  were  healing.  The  wounds  were  not 
indeed  dangerous  or  very  severe.  Marcus  could  have 
been  on  his  feet  again  in  a  shorter  time,  had  he  so 
willed.  But  the  terrible  experience  with  its  strange 
closing  episode  had  greatly  depressed  him.  He  waited 
till  he  had  no  excuse  for  waiting  longer  before  he  re 
sumed  his  activity. 

He  told  his  father  everything.  He  had,  indeed,  no 
choice  in  this.  His  disabled  condition  had  to  be  ex 
plained,  and  Marcus  was  too  honorable  to  make  such 
an  explanation  untruthful  or  evasive.  At  the  same  time 
he  would  have  made  a  full  confession  had  he  come  out 
of  the  encounter  without  a  scratch.  He  had  before 
hand  resolved  to  do  this  unless  his  own  death  in  the 
arena  should  prevent  him.  Agrippa  heard  the  story 
in  silence  and  betrayed  no  emotion  while  it  was  being 
told.  When  Marcus  had  ended,  he  said  very  quietly, 

'  What  did  you  think  I  would  do  if  I  knew  your 
purpose?  " 

"  I  thought  you  would  prevent  the  fight  from  taking 
place." 

"How?" 

"  A  word  from  you  to  Piso  would  have  been  quite 
sufficient." 

;<  In  other  words,  you  thought  I  would  use  my  of 
ficial  authority  to  keep  you  from  risking  your  life." 

"  Yes,  I  thought  exactly  that." 

"  You  do  not  yet  know  me.     What  would  you  say 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         243 

if  I  told  you  that  I  knew  all  along  what  you  had  in 
mind?" 

"  Impossible !  You  surely  do  not  mean  what  you 
say.  How  could  you  have  found  out?  How  could 
you  have  been  satisfied  to  say  nothing  about  it?  " 

Agrippa  smiled  as  he  replied, 

"  You  mean,  how  could  I  have  set  so  little  value  on 
your  life,  seeing  that  you  are  my  son  and  my  only  one? 
It  would  have  been  sad  indeed  if  you  had  been  cut  off 
in  your  prime  in  a  conflict  which  I  can  not  help  pro 
nouncing  an  ignoble  one.  But  you  are  a  man.  You 
deliberately  planned  to  go  into  the  fight.  I  should  have 
considered  that  I  was  making  a  poor  use  of  my  author 
ity  if  I  had  employed  it  to  destroy  your  freedom  of 
action." 

"  But  surely  you  were  not  indifferent?  " 

"  So  far  from  it  that  I  have  had  no  easy  hours  for 
the  last  month.  I  was  at  the  Circus.  I  watched  the 
duel  from  beginning  to  end  with  an  interest  so  intense 
that  it  was  agony.  But  although  I  think  what  you  did 
was  not  worthy  of  a  true  Roman,  it  was  not  dishonor 
able  nor,  in  my  judgment,  disgraceful,  though  many 
would  deem  it  so.  Had  I  looked  upon  it  as  dishonor 
able,  I  should  at  least  have  gone  so  far  as  to  remon 
strate  with  you  and  try  to  dissuade  you.  As  it  was,  I 
suffered;  but  I  could  only  suffer  in  silence." 

"  I  am  ashamed  and  humiliated.  I  shall  always 
think  of  the  affair  with  horror  and  loathing.  It  was 
more  like  butchery  than  honorable  combat,  and  it 
brought  a  season  of  pain  and  grief  upon  you.  Yes, 
I  am  more  thoroughly  ashamed  that  I  can  tell.  But 


244         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

how  in  the  world  did  you  first  find  out  about  it?  " 

"  Piso  told  me  the  very  day  after  you  forced  him  to 
consent  to  your  scheme.  I  praised  him  and  reproved 
him  at  the  same  time.  I  told  him  he  had  done  right 
in  coming  to  me  with  the  story,  but  altogether  wrong 
in  aiding  and  abetting  you  in  doing  what  he  knew  would 
not  meet  with  my  approval.  He  was  very  much  crest 
fallen  when  I  informed  him  that  his  action  was  too  late 
and  that  I  should  not  interfere." 

"  Is  he  to  be  punished?  " 

"No.  Why  should  he  be?  Men  should  be  pun 
ished  for  their  good,  not  vindictively;  and  he  has 
learned  his  lesson.  I  think  he  has  been  as  miserable 
as  I.  His  attachment  to  you  has  made  him  anxious 
and  troubled,  and  he  has  had  to  reproach  himself  for 
bringing  this  load  of  anxiety  on  me." 

"  How  well  you  manage  men !  How  did  you 
learn?" 

"  By  my  mistakes,  as  all  men  must." 

u  But  a  man  who  learns  only  by  doing  things  wrong 
will  never  do  things  wholly  right.  You  have  not  been 
doing  things  wrong  all  your  life.  You  have  done  them 
right.  How  do  you  do  it?  " 

Agrippa  thought  for  a  moment  and  then  said, 

;t  I  think  you  know  as  well  as  I.  It  is  by  making 
impulse  wait  on  judgment.  This  you  will  do  when 
the  hot  blood  of  youth  has  cooled  a  little.  This  is 
what  the  great  men  do  who  achieve  great  things." 

'*  But  some  of  the  greatest  things  have  been  done 
through  love  of  country,  and  that  is  pure  feeling." 

"  And  very  foolish  things,  also,  as  when  Brutus  and 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         245 

his  fellow  conspirators  murdered  Caesar.  The  tru 
est  patriots  are  the  men  of  sound  judgment  who  think 
before  they  act.  Epaminondas  did  not  wait  for  the 
Spartans  to  cut  his  army  to  pieces  and  then  think  he 
could  have  beaten  them  by  massing  his  men  fifty  deep. 
He  thought  out  his  problem  beforehand,  and  when  the 
time  came,  he  massed  his  men  fifty  deep  and  drove  the 
Spartans  off  the  field.  But  enough!  I  think  you  have 
learned  a  lesson  that  is  worth  more  than  any  words  of 
mine  could  be.  Perhaps  this  miserable  duel  was  worth 
while.  It  has  taught  you  a  lesson  you  will  not  soon 
forget." 

The  lesson  was  not,  indeed,  forgotten.  It  had  been 
too  bitter  and  humiliating.  But  Marcus,  with  his  na 
tive  energy  and  buoyant  spirits,  would  soon  have 
thrown  off  the  depression  caused  by  his  mortifying  ex 
perience  had  it  not  been  for  the  grief-stricken  face  he 
got  sight  of  as  he  sank  upon  the  sands  of  the  arena. 
That  face  haunted  him.  He  had  no  thought  of  break 
ing  his  resolution.  He  would  take  no  steps  to  find 
and  know  the  girl  who  seemed  so  strangely  destined 
to  cross  his  path.  Yet  it  tried  him  sorely  to  think 
that  she  always  saw  him  at  his  worst.  Their  first 
meeting  had  not  been  under  auspicious  circumstances. 
He  felt  sure  she  had  witnessed  his  boisterous  conduct 
at  the  theater.  And  she  had  looked  with  pity  upon 
him  as  he  was  nerving  himself  to  stab  a  dying  man. 

Why  should  he  care  if  he  was  never  to  see  her  again? 
But  that  was  the  disturbing  question.  Would  he  not 
see  her  again?  He  felt  sure  that  he  should.  Where 
is  to  be  found  the  consistent  disciple  of  pure  reason? 


246         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

Who  is  not  ready  to  believe  in  a  guiding  star?  That 
the  dread  Sisters  were  actually  spinning  the  thread  of 
his  destiny,  Marcus  did  not  for  a  moment  think.  He 
would  not  again  embrace  discarded  superstitions  in 
order  to  nourish  his  hopes.  But  neither  would  he 
stifle  hope  at  the  dictates  of  naked,  uncompromising 
reason. 

His  friends  visited  him  freely  while  he  was  con 
valescing.  More  than  once  Lentulus  came  and  sat  by 
his  bedside.  Only  a  day  or  two  before  Marcus  began 
to  go  about  again  he  appeared  and  congratulated  him 
that  he  could  now  dismiss  his  encounter  with  the  fierce 
Thracian  from  his  mind. 

"  I  can  not  dismiss  it,"  said  Marcus.  "  My  wounds 
are  about  healed.  My  mind  is  not  well." 

"  You  are  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  have  an  abid 
ing  mental  sore.  Your  will  is  too  sound.  What  is  the 
matter?  " 

Marcus  did  not  reply  immediately.  Presently  he 
said, 

"  Was  it  naught  but  reason  and  sound  judgment  that 
guided  Ulysses?  Was  Pallas  Athene  nothing  but  an 
idle  fancy?  " 

"  Not  altogether  an  idle  fancy.  A  beautiful  one  for 
a  poet  to  make  use  of.  Homer  would  not  be  enter 
taining  if  the  gods  and  goddesses  and  nymphs  were  left 
out.  But  fancy  is  not  fact.  Ulysses  had  nothing  but 
his  own  wits  to  depend  on  when  he  got  into  trouble." 

"  And  when  Nausicaa  met  him  at  the  river  side  after 
his  shipwreck,  it  was  just  chance?  " 

"  Nothing  more." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         247 

"  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  Because  I  can  see  you  want  to  believe  the  opposite. 
Well,  believe  in  Athene,  or  Neptune,  or  the  three  Fates 
with  the  distaff  and  the  shears,  if  you  will.  But  it 
isn't  reason.  You  are  humoring  your  will  at  the  ex 
pense  of  judgment." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  do  the  same  if  your  feelings 
were  ever  strong  enough  to  be  riotous  and  unruly.  Do 
you  remember  how  I  came  late  to  Milo's  banquet  and 
the  company  twitted  me  about  an  Unknown?  " 

"  Perfectly,  though  I  do  not  need  to  tell  you  that  I 
did  not  join  in  their  silly  raillery." 

"  Of  course  not.  Nonsense  and  you  live  far  apart. 
Well,  there  was  an  Unknown.  She  was  a  beautiful 
Hebrew  girl.  She  was  as  lovely  as  she  was  beautiful. 
If  she  were  a  Roman,  I  should  try  to  win  her  and 
marry  her.  But  I  can  not  seek  her.  I  would  not  do  it 
in  a  trifling  spirit.  I  must  not  do  it  in  a  serious  one. 
Yet  I  have  seen  her  twice  since  I  first  met  her  in  the 
street;  once  at  the  Theater,  once  at  the  Circus.  Just 
before  I  fell  upon  the  sands  after  fatally  wounding 
Styrax,  my  eye  met  hers.  She  knew  me  in  spite  of  my 
disguise.  I  feel  that  I  shall  meet  her  again." 

"  And  if  you  do,  will  it  be  chance  or  what?  " 

;t  I  do  not  know,  but  I  am  sure  I  shall  see  her 
again." 

"  Perhaps  you  will,  but  you  are  not  acting  like  your 
self.  Your  will  is  strong.  Your  conduct  has  always 
been  governed  by  energy  and  decision.  Now  you  are 
drifting.  Don't  drift  any  longer.  You  are  quite  right 
in  thinking  you  can  not  marry  the  girl.  It  is  out  of 


248         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

the  question.  It  would  ruin  your  career  to  tie  yourself 
to  an  alien  woman.  So,  give  her  up  absolutely  and 
put  her  out  of  your  mind  altogether." 

'  That  is  to  say,  I  must  take  pure  reason  .as  my 
guide  and  not  allow  inclination  to  make  even  a  sugges 
tion!  Do  the  sages  always  do  that?  How  about  Soc 
rates  and  the  daemon  he  followed?  " 

"  I  can't  explain  what  it  was  that  guided  him.  I 
certainly  believe  he  was  honest  in  what  he  said  about 
it.  But  we  do  not  all  have  daemons.  I  have  none. 
You  have  none.  You  have  a  sound  judgment,  though, 
and  you  would  best  follow  it." 

;'  I  am  not  going  against  it.  It  is  because  I  yield 
to  it  that  I  do  not  seek  this  girl  whom  I  can  not  help 
thinking  about.  No  doubt  you  are  right  in  saying  that 
marriage  with  her  is  out  of  the  question.  My  own 
pride  tells  me  so.  I  got  the  same  view,  strongly  put, 
when  I  questioned  my  father  one  morning  about  the 
Hebrews.  So  you  see  I  am  doing  just  what  judgment 
bids  me  do.  But  I  believe  I  shall  see  the  girl  again." 

"What  if  you  do  not?" 

"  Then  it  will  be  plain  that  there  was  no  daemon  in 
the  case  and  that  her  life  and  mine  are  to  be  separate." 

"  How  long  are  you  going  to  wait?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  That  is  a  thing  not  to  be  decided 
beforehand." 

!<  I  should  advise  you  not  to  wait  very  long.  It  was 
purely  by  chance  that  you  met  the  girl  at  all.  It  was 
a  strange  chance  that  brought  you  face  to  face  with  her 
in  the  Theater,  a  still  stranger  one  that  you  should 
have  seen  her  at  the  Circus.  It  will  be  altogether  ex- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         249 

traordinary  if  you  ever  meet  her  again.  I  do  not  be 
lieve  you  will.  Accordingly,  as  you  will  most  certainly 
not  come  across  her  again  and  as  you  have  resolved 
not  to  seek  her,  I  advise  you  to  take  the  one  simple 
means  of  forgetting  her  —  marrying  someone  else." 

"  You  are  always  the  philosopher,  Lentulus,"  said 
Marcus  laughingly.  ;<  Reason  never  had  a  more  thor 
ough-going  follower  than  you.  But  some  day  feeling 
will  master  you  and  you  will  have  to  sit  down  and 
make  your  theories  all  over !  It  is  only  time  that  can 
make  me  forget  this  beautiful  face  —  quite  the  loveliest 
I  have  ever  looked  upon.  And  before  time  can  work 
its  cure,  I  feel  that  I  shall  see  her  again.  It  may  be 
chance,  but  I  tell  you  I  shall  see  her  again." 

Marcus'  feeling  was  to  be  justified,  but  it  was  hardly 
chance  that  was  to  bring  the  two  once  more  together. 
The  next  meeting  was  to  be  a  strange  one  indeed  and 
was  to  result  inevitably  from  the  way  in  which  he 
ordered  his  own  life. 


XXIV 

JULIA  as  well  as  Naarah  had  recognized  Marcus 
at  the  Circus.  A  woman  is  always  keen  to  pene 
trate  the  disguise  of  a  man  she  loves.  With 
agonized  feelings  she  watched  the  dubious  strife. 
When  Styrax  assailed  fiercely  or  foully,  her  heart  sank 
within  her.  What  if  one  of  those  terrific  strokes 
should  lay  low  this  magnificent  young  Roman,  the  hope 
of  his  country  she  firmly  believed?  And  if  he  should 
be  terribly  wounded,  would  the  bloodthirsty  populace 
spare  him  or  would  they  hold  down  their  cruel  thumbs 
while  he  lay  bleeding  and  helpless  on  the  earth? 
Surely  they  would  spare  one  who  was  so  splendidly 
made  by  nature  and  who  waged  such  a  gallant  fight. 
And  then  what?  Should  she  see  him  if  his  end  were 
near  or  if  he  hovered  between  life  and  death?  Ah, 
what  joy  it  would  be  to  ease  his  pain  and  soothe  him 
with  tenderest  touch! 

The  conflict  over,  Julia  learned  from  Milo  the  ex 
tent  of  Marcus'  injuries.  And  this  was  all  the  satis 
faction  that  was  possible  for  her.  She  could  not  see 
him.  He  sent  her  no  kindly  message.  So  from  day 
to  day  she  chafed  and  fretted  as  she  reflected  upon  the 
past  and  wondered  about  the  future.  What  had  made 
this  superbly  gifted  Roman  so  recklessly  risk  his  life 
in  a  savage  and  brutal  fight  in  the  arena?  Would 

250 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         251 

he  ever  grow  ambitious?     Would  he  ever  do  the  things 
he  was  fitted  for?     And  if  he  did,  would  he  ask  her 
to  stand  at  his  side  to  give  him  help  and  counsel? 
She  tried  to  get  a  clue  to  his  motives  from  Milo. 
"  Why,"  she  asked  him  a  day  or  two  after  the  duel, 
"  did  Marcus  choose  to  fight  in  the  arena  with  a  beast 
of  a  gladiator?  " 

"  To  show  how  well  he  could  do  it,  I  suppose." 

"  Nonsense  !     Marcus  does  not  do  things  for  show." 

"  True.     But  he  did  the  business  so  well  that  I  do 

not  see  any  occasion  for  asking  why  he  did  it.     A  man 

who  can  fight  like  that  has  a  right  to  fight  if  he  wants 


to." 


This  was  all  the  light  that  Julia  could  get  from 
Milo  and  all  indeed  that  he  had  to  give.  Marcus'  de 
pressed  mood  had  prevented  him  from  talking  about 
the  duel  with  any  of  his  friends  but  Lentulus;  so  none 
of  the  circle  excepting  the  young  Stoic  knew  what  had 
led  to  the  savage  encounter  with  the  Thracian.  Un 
der  these  trying  circumstances,  Julia  was  pleased  to 
have  a  visit  from  Cethegus  while  Marcus  was  con 
valescing.  This  astute  youth  thought  that  the  disabled 
condition  of  his  rival  gave  him  an  excellent  opportunity 
for  pressing  his  own  cause.  Might  not  Julia's  pride 
be  offended  by  Marcus'  undignified  action?  If  he 
talked  discreetly  and  entertainingly,  Julia  might  begin 
to  think  him  a  more  agreeable  acquaintance  than  a  man 
whose  fierce  barbaric  instincts  drove  him  to  shed  blood 
before  a  howling  populace. 

And  entertaining  indeed  he  was.  He  gave  Julia  a 
highly  flavored  account  of  a  marriage  ceremony  at 


252         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

which  he  had  recently  been  present;  repeated  with 
spicy  additions  of  his  own  the  latest  jokes  of  the  best 
known  parasites;  retailed  the  current  gossip;  and 
showed  up  with  inimitable  drollery  the  peculiarities  of 
some  of  the  notable  characters  of  the  city.  That  Julia 
was  highly  amused  he  could  not  help  seeing;  but  the 
self-congratulatory  mood  which  her  mirth  aroused  in 
him  was  soon  succeeded  by  chagrin  and  vexation. 
Very  easily  and  naturally  she  brought  the  conversation 
round  to  the  encounter  between  Marcus  and  Styrax  and 
put  to  Cethegus  the  same  question  she  had  asked  of 
Milo,  Why  Marcus  should  have  wished  to  fight  with 
a  gladiator? 

Annoyed  as  Cethegus  was,  he  concealed  his  vexation. 

"  How  can  I  say?  "  he  answered.  "  I  am  not  in 
his  confidence.  Why  not  ask  him  himself  when  he 
comes  to  see  you?  His  wounds  are  healing  and  he 
will  soon  be  out  again." 

Julia  could  not  help  coloring,  and  Cethegus,  who 
had  shaped  his  answer  with  a  purpose,  at  once  divined 
the  truth.  Julia  was  trying  to  draw  information  about 
Marcus  out  of  him  because  she  was  being  neglected  by 
Marcus  himself  and  had  no  assurance  that  she  should 
see  him  soon.  Pleased  with  this  state  of  things  and 
not  wishing  to  excite  Julia's  resentment  by  noticing  or 
increasing  her  embarrassment,  he  did  not  wait  for  her 
to  answer  but  continued  his  own  remarks  with  entire 
ease  and  nonchalance. 

"  It  really  amuses  me  sometimes  to  think  what  genu 
ine  children  of  Romulus  and  Remus  we  Romans  are.  I 
fancy  the  she  wolf  really  did  suckle  those  two  famishing 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         253 

orphans.  I  don't  believe  many  of  the  old  stories,  but 
I  do  believe  that  one.  It  is  the  only  way  of  explaining 
why  the  Romans  are  such  savages.  They  have  a  wolf 
ish  craving  for  blood,  and  there  is  nothing  they  admire 
so  much  as  brute  strength  and  skill  with  the  sword. 
Now,  if  they  were  all  told  that  Plato  had  come  to  life 
again  and  was  talking  in  the  Forum,  I  have  no  doubt 
half  of  them  would  say,  'Plato?  Who  is  Plato?' 
And  when  they  found  he  was  only  a  philosopher,  they 
would  think  he  wasn't  worth  looking  at.  But  if  they 
heard  that  Achilles  had  come  up  from  Hades  and  was 
going  to  carve  a  few  gladiators  into  small  pieces  just 
to  illustrate  how  he  avenged  the  death  of  Patroclus, 
even  the  Circus  Maximus  would  not  begin  to  hold  the 
people  that  would  want  to  see  the  sport. 

"  A  big,  stalwart  Roman  patrician  has  a  quarrel  with 
a  gladiator  —  Apollo  knows  what  it  was  all  about;  I 
don't,  though  I  have  heard  more  explanations  of  it 
than  there  are  scandal  mongers  in  Rome  —  and  the 
two  fight  it  out  in  the  arena.  It  was  a  furious  and 
bloody  fight  and  it  pleased  the  populace  immensely. 
But  when  it  was  found  afterwards  that  the  victor,  who 
had  stained  his  skin  to  look  like  an  Afric,  was  really 
the  son  of  the  Prefect,  the  whole  city  went  wild.  Peo 
ple  could  talk  of  nothing  else;  and  so  everybody  in 
Rome  is  asking  everybody  else  in  Rome  just  what  you 
have  been  asking  me,  What  made  Marcus  fight  with  a 
gladiator? 

u  It  is  really  too  bad.  How  can  a  poor  fellow  like 
myself  get  famous  and  be  talked  about?  I  can't  fight 
gladiators.  I  should  be  killed  so  quick  that  there 


254         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

would  be  no  more  interest  in  it  than  in  watching  a 
butcher  wring  the  neck  of  a  chicken.  I  can't  do  any 
thing  that  would  interest  these  countrymen  of  mine  the 
least  bit  in  the  world." 

"  You  can  talk,  Cethegus." 

"  The  very  thing  they  don't  care  a  whistle  for. 
Cicero  was  the  last  of  the  talkers  and  he  talked  his 
own  head  off.  I  would  rather  keep  mine  on.  It  isn't 
safe  to  talk  in  these  days.  And  what  could  I  talk 
about?  I  don't  happen  to  be  putting  down  a  con 
spiracy,  or  wiping  out  tribes  of  barbarians,  or  killing 
a  Caesar,  or  carving  up  the  Empire  and  taking  the 
lion's  share  of  it.  And  surely  the  Romans  would  not 
care  to  have  me  tell  what  I  had  for  dinner." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that.  As  you  describe  them, 
I  should  say  that  is  just  the  sort  of  thing  they  would 
care  about.  And  I  am  not  saying  you  misjudge  them. 
I  think  you  understand  them  very  well.  And  because 
you  do,  you  have  designs  upon  them.  You  have 
brains.  These  pleasure-loving  people  have  little  or 
none.  You  are  going  to  make  their  ignorance  and 
stupidity  the  stepping  stone  to  your  own  ambitions. 
Go  on  and  do  so !  But  I  shall  always  laugh  when 
you  tell  me  that  you  have  no  way  of  becoming  great 
and  famous  because  you  can't  fight  gladiators." 

Little  more  was  said.  Cethegus  went  away  at  once 
hopeful  and  disappointed.  That  Julia  had  given  her 
heart  unreservedly  to  Marcus,  he  could  not  help  see 
ing.  But  if  Marcus  continued  to  neglect  her,  might 
she  not  turn  to  him  in  time?  Her  wounded  pride 
would  deepen  the  impression  made  by  his  own  adroit 
appeals  to  her  vanity  and  her  ambition. 


XXV 

MARCUS'  wounds  were  healed.  His  mind 
still  remained  depressed.  So  great  was  the 
longing  to  see  again  the  face  that  haunted  him 
that  it  made  him  unhappy.  The  first  day  that  he  left 
his  room  and  breakfasted  with  his  father,  Agrippa  saw 
that  he  was  not  himself. 

"  Marcus,"  he  said,  "  you  are  taking  your  lesson 
too  hard.  It  is  preying  on  your  spirits.  There  is 
no  reason  why  you  should  be  so  cast  down.  Show 
yourself  a  man !  " 

u  So  I  will.  But  you  told  me  yourself  that  we  had 
to  learn  by  our  mistakes.  I  have  something  to  learn 
still." 

"  You  won't  learn  by  brooding  over  things  and  re 
proaching  yourself.  You  have  done  that  long  enough. 
You  need  to  be  active.  Do  something!  Take  a  post 
under  me  and  I  will  give  you  work.  You  have  fenced 
and  exercised  and  explored  the  city  till  you  are  weary 
of  it  all.  You  need  to  have  duties  to  perform  every 
day.  Your  mind  would  be  healthy  if  you  were  busy." 

"  Indulge  me  a  little  longer.  I  am  not  quite  ready 
to  give  up  my  freedom  yet.  Before  long  I  shall  want 
you  to  assign  me  some  task  —  not  an  easy  one.  And 
when  I  undertake  it,  I  will  do  it  well." 

"  Of  that  I  am  sure;  but  do  not  wait  too  long." 

So  Marcus  took  up  his  life  again  and  went  about 

255 


256         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

his  wonted  ways.  He  went  to  the  gymnasium,  though 
he  exercised  but  languidly;  he  sought  the  gladiators' 
school  and  talked  with  Piso,  though  he  had  no  heart 
for  fencing  with  the  gladiators;  he  drank  and  feasted 
with  his  companions  without  adding  materially  to  their 
life  and  merriment.  Julia,  however,  he  did  not  seek. 
Day  after  day  she  hoped  for  his  coming  after  hearing 
from  Milo  that  he  was  active  again;  but  he  did  not 
appear.  The  thought  of  Naarah  —  whom  he  did  not 
yet  know  by  name  —  made  him  altogether  averse  to 
seeing  Julia.  It  was  the  companionship  of  Delphium 
that  he  craved  and  sought.  With  her,  he  thought, 
there  could  be  friendship  and  genial  converse  without 
any  disturbing  question  of  sentiment. 

The  first  time  he  visited  her  rooms,  he  went  alone. 
He  chose  an  hour  when  there  would  be  few  if  any 
guests  and  a  private  interview  would  attract  no  notice. 
He  found  no  one  in  the  wine  room.  Delphium  re 
ceived  him  joyfully,  conducted  him  into  the  cozy  re 
tiring  room  and  gave  him  a  beaker  of  the  mellow 
soothing  wine.  With  fine  tact  and  insight  she  re 
frained  from  broaching  at  once  the  subject  of  the  duel. 
Her  quick  eye  saw  that  Marcus  had  not  his  old-time 
brightness  of  spirits.  She  divined  that  something 
was  wrong  and  she  suspected  that  the  whole  drastic 
experience  was  preying  on  his  mind.  Was  there  some 
thing  more?  If  so,  she  would  find  it  out. 

"Drink!"  she  said,  "  and  forget  everything  that 
troubles  you !  It  is  a  joy  to  see  you  again.  Let  us 
not  speak  of  that  horrible  fight!  I  know  that  it  has 
been  preying  on  your  spirits  and  that  everyone  of  your 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         257 

friends  has  wanted  to  hear  you  tell  the  whole  story 
over  again  till  it  has  become  as  wearisome  to  you  as 
the  lesson  a  dull  boy  has  to  learn  to  save  himself  a 
whipping.  I  saw  it,  and  that  was  enough.  Wel 
come  back  to  the  world,  Marcus  1  I  drink  to  the 
happy  days  that  are  before  you." 

Marcus  was  surprised  and  gratified.  His  friends 
had  indeed  tried  him  not  a  little  by  insisting  that 
he  should  talk  about  the  duel.  He  had  refused  to 
humor  them,  but  they  had  at  least  succeeded  in  mak 
ing  the  subject  distasteful.  Expecting  that  Delphium 
too  would  demand  the  story,  he  had  come  prepared 
to  give  a  reluctant  compliance  to  the  wish.  For  inas 
much  as  it  was  she  who  had  put  the  thought  of  fighting 
Styrax  into  his  mind,  he  could  hardly  refuse  to  gratify 
her  curiosity.  He  would  have  told  her  the  story  in 
a  dull,  half-hearted  way  and  been  glad  when  it  was 
ended.  But  now  that  she  had  waived  the  matter,  he 
found  himself  strangely  possessed  with  the  desire  to 
relate  the  whole  episode  and  hear  her  expressions  of 
sympathy  and  approval. 

"  Yes,  I  knew  you  were  there,"  he  said,  after  they 
had  sipped  lightly  of  the  wine.  "  You  told  me  you 
were  going.  I  have  wondered  since  whether  you  did 
not  repent  the  part  you  had  played  in  the  matter  when 
you  saw  how  hard  pressed  I  was  at  times." 

"  To  be  sure  I  did.  But  no  more  about  it!  It  has 
made  you  suffer  much.  I  can  see  that.  Let  us  talk 
about  something  more  cheerful!  " 

So  straighway,  Delphium  began  to  chat  in  a  light 
and  entertaining  manner  about  things  that  were  trivial 


25 8         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

in  themselves  but  which  she  made  to  appear  fresh  and 
interesting  by  her  wit  and  drollery.  She  talked  about 
Marcus'  friends  and  told  how  dull  and  spiritless  they 
seemed  when  they  came  to  the  wine  room  while  he  was 
convalescing.  She  repeated  the  latest  stories  that  were 
afloat,  being  careful  to  avoid  those  which  were  un 
savory.  She  gave  a  vivid  sketch  of  the  doings  of  the 
informers,  who  had  recently  gathered  some  notable 
victims  into  their  net.  She  denounced  Tiberius  and  pic 
tured  his  character  in  lurid  colors.  And  finally  she 
began  to  recount  one  of  the  numerous  tales  that  had 
floated  through  the  city  regarding  the  reasons  why 
Marcus  had  met  Styrax  in  a  battle  to  the  death.  But 
hardly  had  she  entered  upon  the  story  when  she 
stopped  short  and  said, 

"Dear  me!  The  forbidden  topic.  I  happened 
upon  it  without  thinking.  You  see,  you  set  the  whole 
city  to  talking  about  you,  Marcus,  and  for  quite  a 
while  nothing  else  that  took  place  seemed  of  any  in 
terest.  It  is  really  difficult  to  rule  you  out  of  con 


versation." 


"  Finish  your  story,  Delphium!  I  am  not  so  sensi 
tive  on  the  subject  as  you  suppose." 

So  Delphium  went  on  with  the  tale,  adorning  it  with 
touches  of  her  own.  When  she  had  ended  she  said, 
as  if  struck  by  a  sudden  thought, 

"  Oh,  there  is  just  one  thing  I  have  been  wanting  to 
know  about  the  duel  and  which  perhaps  you  will  tell 
me  as  you  say  you  are  not  averse  to  speaking  about  it. 
I  could  not  believe  that  you,  with  your  vast  strength, 
had  been  so  badly  wounded  as  to  make  you  faint  at 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         259 

the  end.     What  caused  you  to  fall,  Marcus?" 

Marcus  was  startled.  He  hesitated  before  reply 
ing.  Then,  thinking  there  was  no  reason  for  conceal 
ment  here,  he  said  shortly, 

"  I  saw  a  face." 

If  Marcus  was  startled  by  the  question,  Delphium 
was  more  startled  by  the  answer.  She  was  like  one 
gazing  suddenly  into  a  dark  chasm  where  a  moment 
before  there  had  been  green  earth  and  flowers.  At 
once  she  guessed  why  Marcus  had  come  to  her  so  list 
less  and  tame-spirited.  What  she  had  attributed  to 
the  repulsive  character  of  the  whole  experience,  had 
in  reality  a  deeper  cause.  Whose  face  was  it  he  had 
seen?  Not  Julia's,  she  felt  sure.  She  must  find  out, 
but  with  all  possible  caution.  She  was  too  crafty  to 
assault  a  citadel  that  needed  to  be  undermined.  With 
out  showing  a  trace  of  emotion  at  Marcus'  unexpected 
reply,  she  said  laughingly, 

'  What  a  strange  man  you  are,  Marcus!  You  over 
power  the  most  ferocious  fighter  in  Rome  and  then 
fall  down  because  you  see  a  face.  Were  you  dream 
ing,  I  wonder?  But  now  that  we  have  touched  upon 
the  duel,  I  believe  you  will  have  to  tell  me  all  about 
it.  You  owe  it  to  me.  I  went  through  so  much  while 
I  was  watching  you  1  You  were  too  excited  to  think 
or  feel;  but  to  me  it  was  awful,  terrifying.  I  felt 
that  I  could  not  bear  it.  I  wanted  to  go  away,  and  yet 
I  could  not.  I  simply  had  to  sit  still  and  watch  it 
through,  though  my  heart  almost  stopped  beating  at 
times.  I  think  I  was  most  fearful  for  you  at  the  first. 
You  did  not  more  than  half  fight  for  a  while.  But 


260         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

after  the  real  battle  rage  got  hold  of  you,  I  was  sure 
nothing  could  save  Styrax.  Why,  even  when  he 
wrested  your  sword  out  of  your  hand,  I  still  felt  that 
somehow  you  would  get  the  better  of  him.  So  do  tell 
me  the  whole  story!  I  feel  that  I  was  to  blame  for 
bringing  such  a  frightful  experience  upon  you,  and  I 
really  must  know  just  what  you  went  through." 

Delphium's  animation  was  contagious.  Marcus  be 
gan,  not  without  spirit,  to  describe  the  combat  and  the 
emotions  he  experienced  at  its  different  stages.  As 
he  went  on,  he  warmed  to  his  theme  more  and  more 
and  made  his  narrative  intensely  thrilling  and  dramatic. 
After  a  time  he  rose  from  his  seat,  walked  about  the 
room  and  acted  out  the  story  as  it  was  poured  forth  in 
vivid  and  telling  phrases  from  his  lips.  Delphium 
listened  spell-bound  and  uttered  a  sigh  of  relief  as  the 
tale  was  brought  to  an  end. 

*  Then  he  was  mortally  wounded,"  she  said  when 
Marcus  finished,  "  and  did  not  need  a  final  thrust  to 
bring  his  worthless  life  to  a  close.  I  was  sure  it  was 
so.  I  did  not  see  how  any  man  could  recover  from 
such  a  blow  as  you  gave  him.  And  you  pretended  to 
faint  just  to  avoid  stabbing  a  dying  man?  It  was  like 
you,  Marcus.  But,  dear  me!  I  forgot.  You  said 
it  was  because  you  saw  a  face.  Whose  face  was  it, 
Marcus?  How  could  you  see  any  single  face  in  that 
vast  multitude?  Did  you  have  a  vision?" 

Taken  off  his  guard  and  brought  into  a  communica 
tive  mood  by  Delphium's  artfulness,  Marcus  admitted 
that  the  face  he  had  seen  was  that  of  a  young  Hebrew 
girl  whom  he  had  met  but  scarcely  knew.  She  was 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         261 

very  beautiful  and,  he  was  sure,  very  good.  By  a 
strange  chance  his  eyes  had  rested  on  her  as  he  had 
looked  up  to  the  spectators  to  learn  their  animus  to 
ward  Styrax,  and  her  pale  anxious  face  had  affected 
him  strangely. 

He  spoke  with  reserve,  but  Delphium  questioned 
him  so  skillfully  without  seeming  to  question  him  at 
all,  that  he  finally  told  the  astute  Greek  all  that  she 
needed  to  know.  A  rival  there  was  after  all,  and  a 
formidable  one.  But  how  formidable?  That  she 
could  not  quite  make  out.  With  all  her  craft  she  could 
not  read  Marcus'  mind  for  the  simple  reason  that  it 
was  too  elevated  for  her  to  understand  it.  She  was 
like  a  person  gazing  up  to  a  sun-lit  hill  crest  through 
a  dense  undergrowth;  and  the  undergrowth  that  ob 
structed  her  vision  was  the  low  and  selfish  motives 
that  dominated  her  actions.  But  of  one  thing  she  was 
sure.  Now  was  her  opportunity.  There  seemed  to 
be  something  amiss  between  Marcus  and  this  girl  who, 
as  Delphium  phrased  it  to  herself,  had  caught  his 
fancy.  He  did  not,  at  any  rate,  seem  to  be  seeking 
her.  She  herself,  therefore,  must  act  before  it  was 
too  late.  She  must  make  her  own  arts  and  blandish 
ments  serve  as  erosives  till  this  fondly  cherished  mem 
ory  was  effaced. 


XXVI 

HOW  fondly  cherished  the  memory  was,  Del- 
phium  naturally  did  not  realize.     Yet  had  she 
realized  it,  she  could  not  have  furthered  her 
own  cause  with  greater  skill  and  adroitness.     She  never 
forced  her  society  upon  Marcus.     She  did  not  urge 
or  even  invite  him  to  come.     She  simply  made  herself 
so  attractive  that  he  was  loth  to  stay  away.     Hence 
to  Marcus  she  seemed  to  have  that  reserve  and  del 
icacy  which  he  had  felt  to  be  lacking  in  Julia. 

Unprincipled  as  well  as  artful,  the  designing  woman 
had  carefully  considered  whether  an  appeal  to  the 
senses  might  not  be  the  surest  way  of  accomplishing 
her  end.  With  rare  subtlety  could  she  have  made  it. 
An  intimate  relation  thoroughly  established,  she  could 
have  stolen  in  upon  the  slumbering  senses  of  the  man 
as  insidiously  as  the  serpent  in  search  of  warmth  coils 
about  a  sleeping  body  in  the  night.  And  when  the 
revealing  moment  came  and  the  man  knew  he  was  un 
der  temptation,  would  it  not  be  too  late  for  him  to  re 
sist?  For  most  men,  yes.  For  Marcus,  with  his  iron 
will  and  unbending  self-respect,  perhaps  not.  More 
over,  in  gaining  all  for  the  moment  she  would  surely 
lose  all  in  the  end.  She  could  not  win  success  in  this 
way  without  unmasking  herself,  and  that  was  the  very 
thing  she  was  striving  not  to  do.  She  was  employing 
all  her  arts  to  hide  her  real  self.  To  betray  it  would 

262 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         263 

be  fatal.  Marcus,  even  though  won  for  the  instant, 
would  soon  cast  her  off  after  she  had  forfeited  his 
respect.  Wisely  therefore  she  determined  that  those 
dangerous  weapons  which  have  worked  many  a  man's 
ruin  must  be  let  alone.  She  must  reach  him  through 
his  ready  sympathies,  his  generous  emotions,  and  the 
trust  which  he  reposed  in  her  integrity. 

And  this  she  seemed  to  be  doing  so  successfully  that 
she  grew  elated  and  confident.  She  was  indeed  more 
successful  than  she  knew.  She  was  becoming  more 
to  Marcus  than  anyone  else,  more  even  than  the  He 
brew  maid  whom  he  thought  of  with  such  reverence. 
The  change  in  his  feelings  was  so  gradual  that  he  him 
self  did  not  realize  it;  but  Delphium  did.  At  least 
she  saw  enough  to  make  her  reasonably  sure  that  the 
prize  was  within  her  grasp.  It  was  now  her  task  to 
make  Marcus  know  his  own  mind;  and  to  bring  this 
about  she  laid  her  plans  with  care  and  with  a  shrewd 
understanding  of  Marcus'  character. 

A  month  had  now  passed  since  Marcus  had  recov 
ered  and  again  shown  himself  to  the  world.  It  was 
just  at  this  time  that  he  noticed  a  change  in  Delphium. 
She  was  low  spirited;  her  vivacity  was  gone.  She 
talked  on  pleasantly  when  Marcus  found  her  alone, 
but  it  seemed  to  be  with  an  effort.  His  attempts  to 
find  out  the  reason,  however,  she  evaded,  putting  his 
questions  by  with  vague,  pointless  answers.  He  won 
dered  but  did  not  press  the  matter.  Going  to  the  wine 
room  one  evening  with  his  wonted  companions,  he 
hoped,  as  they  all  did,  that  Delphium  would  join  them 
and  help  to  make  the  occasion  a  merry  one.  She  did 


264         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

not  appear,  however,  and  for  a  while  they  talked  and 
drank  among  themselves.  But  their  spirits  lagged. 
No  one  seemed  to  have  any  life.  The  company  had 
always  counted  on  Marcus  to  enliven  them  and  he  had 
never  once  been  really  gay  since  his  encounter  with 
Styrax. 

"  By  Pluto,  Marcus !  "  said  Caius  after  a  while, 
"  you  are  as  glum  as  Charon.  What's  the  matter  with 
you?  You  haven't  smiled  for  a  month." 

"  Yes,  what's  the  matter  with  him?"  queried  Bib- 
ulus.  "  If  I  had  killed  a  gladiator,  I  should  be  stand 
ing  on  my  head  with  glee." 

'  What,  and  let  all  the  good  wine  run  out?  "  said 
Milo.  "  No,  no,  Bibulus.  You  would  never  do 
that." 

:(  I  know  why  Marcus  is  so  low  spirited,"  said 
Cethegus.  "  He  is  haunted  by  Styrax's  ghost." 

Marcus  smiled  at  this  sally,  and  the  rest  received  it 
with  a  shout  of  laughter. 

"  Speak  out,  Marcus!  "  cried  Caius,  "  and  tell  us  all 
about  it.  Does  the  ghost  come  in  the  night  and  stand 
by  your  bedside?  And  when  you  see  it,  does  your  hair 
stand  on  end  and  your  voice  stick  in  your  throat,  like 
somebody  that  Vergil  tells  about,  I  forget  who  it 
was?" 

"  Does  your  voice  ever  stick  in  your  throat,  Caius?  " 
asked  Marcus  by  way  of  answer. 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of.     Why?  " 

"  Oh,  if  it  does,  don't  try  to  get  it  loose!  That's 
all." 

"  Now  that's  like  the  old  Marcus  we  used  to  know 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         265 

before  the  fight,"  responded  Caius.  "  You  may  hit  us 
as  hard  and  as  often  as  you  will,  if  you  will  only  be 
yourself.  But  see!  He  has  settled  back  into  that 
gloomy  mood  again.  I  don't  believe  we  shall  get 
another  word  out  of  him  the  whole  evening." 

"Let's  send  for  Delphium!"  suggested  Bibulus. 
"  I  believe  she  could  draw  him  out." 

"  The  very  thing!  Delphium  by  all  means!  "  cried 
the  rest;  and  one  of  the  maids  was  straightway  dis 
patched  for  her  mistress. 

Delphium  did  not  at  once  appear.  When  she  did, 
she  entered  the  room  languidly  and  in  contrast  to  her 
usual  manner.  Usually  she  came  in  with  a  brisk  step 
and  a  bright  sally  which  she  would  follow  up  with  a 
silvery  laugh  that  was  infectious.  But  on  this  occa 
sion  she  had  no  cheery  word  of  greeting  and  her  move 
ments  were  slow  and  spiritless. 

"By  the  beard  of  Jupiter!"  exclaimed  Bibulus. 
"  I  believe  she  is  seeing  the  ghost  of  Styrax,  too." 

All  except  Marcus  laughed  heartily  at  this.  Del 
phium  smiled  faintly  and  said, 

"  I  do  not  understand  your  jest.  But  never  mind! 
If  it  adds  to  your  pleasure  to  make  sport  of  me,  I  am 
not  disturbed.  But  why  did  you  send  for  me?  Is  the 
wine  not  to  your  liking?  " 

"  There  is  nothing  the  matter  with  the  wine,  Del 
phium,"  said  the  kindly  Milo,  "  but  what  is  the  matter 
with  you?  You  are  not  yourself." 

"  Oh,  nothing.  We  all  have  our  moods,  you 
know." 

"  No,   we  don't,"  said  Caius  stoutly.     "  You  and 


266         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

Marcus  do,  but  I  don't  and  Bibulus  doesn't  and  Curio 
doesn't.  Think  of  Curio  sitting  down  before  a  great 
smoking  pasty  of  capon  and  saying,  *  I  can't  eat.  I've 
got  a  mood.'  Moods  are  bad  things.  Where  did 
you  get  yours?  We  think  Marcus  has  been  seeing  the 
ghost  of  Styrax;  and  as  you  seem  to  be  as  low-spirited 
as  he  is,  we  thought  perhaps  you  had  seen  it,  too." 

"  No,  I  have  not  seen  it.  If  I  had,  I  am  sure  I 
should  be  more  low-spirited  than  I  am.  It  would  be  a 
terrifying  thing  to  look  upon." 

"  Perhaps  there  are  other  ghosts  that  haunt  you," 
suggested  Cethegus. 

u  Such  as  what?  "  inquired  Delphium,  who  knew 
that  Cethegus  was  referring  to  her  past  but  was  also 
sure  that  he  would  not,  when  thus  boldly  challenged, 
throw  it  in  her  face.  The  adventuress  lives  largely 
upon  courage.  In  this  case  the  courage  was  justified. 

"  Oh,"  answered  Cethegus  evasively,  "  the  ghosts 
of  those  who  are  burning  up  in  Phlegethon  and  calling 
out  for  wine." 

*  They  would  clamor  for  water,  not  wine,"  said 
Curio.  u  No  one  wants  to  burn  inside  and  outside  at 
the  same  time." 

"  Bibulus  would,"  said  Milo.  "  Water  wouldn't 
quench  his  thirst  any  more  than  the  smell  of  a  pasty 
would  satisfy  Curio's  appetite." 

After  a  few  more  forced  and  labored  sallies  like 
these  Delphium  retired,  declaring  that  she  was  too  dull 
to  give  life  and  spirit  to  such  a  company.  For  some 
time  Marcus  and  his  friends  lingered.  They  drank 
their  wine  and  they  tried  to  be  merry;  but  the  entire 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         267 

group  seemed  to  be  under  a  spell.  The  witticisms 
were  so  feeble  that  no  one  laughed  at  them.  The  cur 
rent  gossip  was  not  racy  enough  to  be  interesting.  The 
topics  of  the  day  were  broached,  but  they  seemed 
hopelessly  tame.  At  last  Cethegus  said, 

"  The  entire  Roman  Empire  seems  to  give  us  noth 
ing  worth  talking  about.  Unless  some  of  you  can 
summon  up  a  ghost  from  Hades  to  entertain  us,  I 
think  we  had  better  go  home." 

"  Now  is  your  opportunity,  Marcus,"  remarked 
Caius.  "  Styrax  would  certainly  be  interesting  if  you 
could  make  him  appear." 

"  I  don't  think,"  rejoined  Marcus,  "  that  we  want  a 
guest  who  will  make  our  voices  stick  in  our  throats, 
for  we  all  seem  to  be  too  much  troubled  that  way  as  it 
is.  Let  us  follow  Cethegus'  suggestion  and  go  home." 

The  company,  accordingly,  dispersed,  taking  vari 
ous  directions.  Marcus  and  Cethegus  walked  to 
gether,  as  their  homes  were  not  very  far  apart.  They 
were  never  truly  companionable,  however,  and  for  a 
while  they  paced  on  in  silence  in  the  starlight.  Mar 
cus  was  brooding  over  the  events  of  the  evening; 
Cethegus  felt  no  inclination  to  disturb  his  uncommuni 
cative  mood.  After  a  time  Marcus  said, 

"  What  did  you  have  in  mind,  Cethegus,  when  you 
asked  Delphium  if  she  were  haunted  by  ghosts?  " 

Cethegus  instantly  felt  reproachful.  Cold  by  tem 
perament  he  was  wholly  free  from  baseness.  He  was 
averse  to  bringing  to  light  what  a  woman  was  trying 
to  cover  up.  He  saw  he  had  put  a  suspicion  into  Mar 
cus'  keen  mind.  He  would  do  his  best  to  quiet  it.  His 


268         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

reply  was  prompt  and  untruthful. 

"  I  had  nothing  in  mind  but  the  desire  to  make  a 
pleasantry.  It  was  a  poor  one,  I  admit.  Mercury 
did  not  sharpen  any  of  our  wits  to-night." 

"Why  is  Delphium  low-spirited?  Do  you  know 
aught  about  her  that  the  rest  of  us  do  not  know?  " 

If  Cethegus  had  given  an  honest  answer  to  this 
query,  Marcus'  life  might  have  been  shaped  differ 
ently.  But  he  did  not  really  have  any  idea  why  Del 
phium  was  depressed,  though  he  was  sure  she  was  act 
ing  a  part;  and  her  discreditable  past  he  would  not 
betray.  That  Marcus  could  have  any  other  relation 
with  her  than  one  of  ordinary  friendliness  he  did  not 
consider  possible.  There  was  no  occasion  to  give  a 
warning.  So  he  ignored  altogether  the  pointed  in 
quiry  in  Marcus'  question  and  said  in  a  light  tone  of 
raillery, 

"  You  are  the  one  that  ought  to  understand  Delphi- 
urn's  moods,  Marcus.  To  you  she  is  an  old  friend. 
To  the  rest  of  us  she  is  the  clever  and  witty  keeper  of 
the  wine  room.  I  can't  explain  her  humors  any  more 
than  I  can  tell  you  whether  on  any  night  the  moon  will 
shine  clear  or  be  under  a  cloud." 

Marcus  was  ordinarily  a  difficult  person  to  put  off 
with  an  evasion.  The  failure  to  meet  an  issue 
squarely  only  roused  him  to  persistent  and  searching 
questioning.  But  Cethegus'  hearty  tones  and  readi 
ness  in  answering  were  altogether  reassuring.  He 
was  convinced  that  he  should  be  playing  an  unworthy 
part  to  follow  up  the  faintly  formed  suspicion  that  had 
forced  itself  upon  him  and  he  dismissed  the  matter 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         269 

from  his  mind. 

Little  more  passed  between  the  two.  When  they 
reached  the  house  of  Agrippa  they  bade  each  other 
good-night.  Cethegus  continued  on  his  way  and  Mar 
cus  halted  before  his  own  door.  He  did  not,  however, 
enter.  He  looked  up  at  the  stars  which  were  shining 
brightly  in  the  still  clear  night.  Then  he  gazed  down 
ward,  as  if  lost  in  thought. 

"  I  will  go  to  her  and  find  out  what  it  is  that  trou 
bles  her,"  he  said;  and  straightway  he  retraced  his 
steps  towrard  Delphium's.  Did  he  know  his  own  heart 
as  he  strode  with  quickened  pace  through  the  streets 
that  led  to  the  wine  room?  Not  fully,  perhaps;  yet 
a  wave  of  joy  surged  through  him  as  he  looked  up  to 
the  bright  shining  stars.  He  was  eager  to  be  once 
more  with  this  woman  who  had  made  such  a  subtle  ap 
peal  to  his  interest  and  regard.  Her  grace,  her  charm, 
her  beauty,  and  her  never  failing  sympathy  had  taken 
full  possession  of  him.  The  image  of  Naarah  had 
grown  very  dim. 


XXVII 

THE  ancients  showed  a  fine  understanding  of 
the  master  passion  when  they  pictured  Cupid 
as  a  tiny  boy.  The  conception  did  not  mean 
that  they  belittled  his  power.  Quite  the  contrary. 
The  power  was  measureless,  but  the  wonder  was  and 
ever  is  that  a  force  so  tremendous  wears  often  so  in 
nocent  a  guise.  A  man  of  iron  will  walks  serenely  on 
his  way,  proudly  thinking  that  he  is  perfect  master  of 
himself.  He  sees  a  winning  smile  and  looks  into  a 
pair  of  radiant  eyes;  and  before  he  knows  it  a  fire  is 
raging  in  his  heart. 

It  was  with  no  thought  of  declaring  himself  a  lover 
that  Marcus  returned  to  Delphium.  He  went  simply 
because  the  impulse  to  go  was  too  strong  to  be  resisted. 
But  as  soon  as  the  grudging  Gugon  had  announced  to 
his  mistress  that  Marcus  had  returned,  the  resolve  was 
formed  in  her  mind  that  he  should  so  declare  himself. 
She  had  half  expected  him.  She  was  sure  that  it  was 
more  than  friendly  interest  that  brought  him  back. 
She  would  now  throw  off  the  mantle  of  reserve  with  its 
soft  appealing  hues.  It  was  time  to  don  the  brighter 
and  more  captivating  colors  of  deep  uncontrollable 
emotion. 

She  awaited  Marcus  in  the  dainty  room  where  he 
had  first  felt  deeply  her  subtle  and  alluring  charm.  It 

*70 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         271 

was  on  the  night  of  his  rough  experience  with  Styrax 
that  she  had,  quite  unexpectedly  indeed,  found  the  op 
portunity  she  had  been  craving.  Three  months  had 
passed  since  then.  During  that  time  she  had  used 
every  opportunity  well.  She  was  satisfied  that  her 
hour  of  triumph  had  come.  It  was  that  elated  con 
sciousness  that  now  animated  and  controlled  her  ac 
tions.  As  Marcus  entered  the  room,  she  uttered  a 
cry  of  delight  and  went  eagerly  forward  to  meet  him 
with  outstretched  hands. 

"  I  knew  you  would  come,  Marcus,"  she  exclaimed 
joyfully.  "  I  knew  you  would  come."  And  she 
looked  up  at  him  with  fast  flowing  tears.  Marcus 
stood  for  a  moment  with  her  hands  clasped  tightly  in 
his  own.  He  looked  into  her  eyes  and  read  what  was 
so  unreservedly  revealed  there.  Then  a  wave  of  joy 
surged  through  him.  He  was  seized  and  thrilled  by 
the  lover's  passion.  Here  was  a  heart  that  throbbed 
and  vibrated  to  his  own.  Here  was  a  womanly  ten 
derness  to  which  he  could  ever  turn  for  rest,  for  sym 
pathy,  and  for  unfaltering  devotion.  In  his  own  heart 
he  felt  an  answering  tenderness.  Nor  did  he  resist  it. 
He  exulted  in  it  and  let  it  dominate  him  wholly.  Fold 
ing  Delphium  in  his  arms  he  pressed  his  lips  passion 
ately  to  hers.  Neither  spoke.  Their  happiness 
seemed  to  need  no  words. 

When  the  first  ecstasy  of  gladness  had  passed  Mar 
cus  placed  himself  in  a  chair,  Delphium  threw  a  cush 
ion  at  his  feet  and  sat  with  her  hands  clasped  upon  his 
knees.  Her  eyes  shone  with  joy  as  she  looked  up  at 
him. 


272         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

"  Is  it  really  true,  Marcus?  "  she  said  gently.  "  Is 
it  really  true  that  you  care  for  me  ?  " 

Marcus  kissed  her  again.  "  My  heart  is  all  yours, 
Delphium,"  he  said.  "  I  have  been  slow  in  finding  it 
out,  but  it  is  all  yours." 

"  O  Marcus!  I  have  loved  you  so  long,  and  now 
at  last  to  think  that  you  belong  to  me,  you,  the  bravest 
and  the  noblest  man  in  all  the  world!  Oh,  I  am  so 
happy.  I  did  not  know  that  one  could  be  as  happy  as 
this." 

"  Not  happier  than  I  am,  Delphium.  But  it  grieves 
me  to  think  that  you  should  have  had  so  many  sad  and 
troubled  days  before  the  gladness  came.  But  it  has 
come  at  last  and  come  to  stay." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes!  "  said  Delphium  fervently,  yet  with 
a  nervous  movement  as  if  some  misgiving  had  seized 
her.  "  It  has  come  to  stay.  It  has  come  to  stay." 

"  I  wonder  what  made  you  so  heavy-hearted,  Del 
phium.  Perhaps  I  could  guess,  but  I  am  not  venture 
some  enough  to  do  so." 

"  If  you  won't  guess,  then  I  shan't  tell  you,"  said 
Delphium  quickly  with  a  mischievous  look. 

"  But  I  want  you  to  tell  me.  That  is  what  I  came 
back  to  hear.  Tell  me,  if  you  wish,  that  I  was  very 
dull  not  to  know  my  heart  sooner  and  spare  you  suf 
fering.  But  I  really  must  hear  the  story." 

'  You  are  as  vain  as  all  men  are.  It  would  flatter 
you  immensely  to  hear  me  say  that  I  was  weary  and  sick 
at  heart  for  long,  long  months  just  because  you  would 
not  utter  a  word  of  love  to  me.  But  I  shall  not  say 
anything  of  the  kind.  How  do  you  know  what  made 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         273 

me  low-spirited?  Perhaps  your  guess  was  not  any 
where  near  the  truth." 

"  If  I  can  guess  what  brought  the  unhappiness  to  an 
end,"  said  Marcus,  as  he  kissed  her  again,  "  I  can 
guess  what  caused  it.  Yet  I  am  not  as  vain  as  you 
think  I  am.  I  am  sure  it  was  more  than  the  love  you 
felt  in  your  heart  that  made  you  lose  your  cheerful 
ness  and  gayety.  Perhaps  the  life  you  have  lived  since 
your  mother  died  had  become  dreary  and  burdensome. 
Tell  me,  was  it  not  so?  " 

"  It  was  even  so,  Marcus.  How  well  you  under 
stand!  No,  it  was  not  my  love  that  really  saddened 
me.  A  woman  can  find  joy  in  loving  even  if  she  has 
no  reason  to  think  her  affection  is  returned  and  cannot 
express  it.  She  then  hides  it  deep  in  her  heart  and 
goes  cheerfully  about  her  ways.  But  I  was  oppressed 
and  haunted  by  all  the  years  that  had  passed  since  I 
lost  my  home  in  Catana.  My  life  seemed  to  be  lead 
ing  me  nowhere.  I  was  wondering  if  I  should  always 
be  Delphium  of  the  wine  room,  with  no  true  friends 
and  no  acquaintances  but  those  made  over  the  cup." 

"  How  dull  and  thoughtless  I  was  not  to  see  how 
you  must  feel  about  it !  But  you  made  the  hours  pass 
so  pleasantly  for  all  of  us  who  gathered  here  that  I 
supposed  you  found  satisfaction  in  the  life." 

"  So  I  did  for  a  while;  but  I  soon  grew  weary  of  it 
and  my  thoughts  turned  more  and  more  to  the  happy 
days  of  my  girlhood  when  we  played  together." 

4  Yes,  those  were  happy  days  indeed.  To  me  too 
it  has  sometimes  been  a  relief  to  recall  them,  for  my 
own  life  has  not  been  flowing  on  smooth  and  untrou- 


274         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

bled  all  the  while." 

"  I  wonder  if  you  have  thought  of  the  things  that 
have  come  most  often  into  my  mind?  Do  you  remem 
ber  how  you  stole  into  the  garden  of  Acilius  and 
brought  away  a  store  of  pomegranates  because  I 
wanted  them?  " 

"  Very  vividly.  And  I  have  not  forgotten  how  I 
stained  my  face  with  the  red  juice  because  you  dared 
me  to  and  made  everybody  stare  at  me  as  I  marched 
down  the  street." 

1  You  were  as  heedless  of  what  people  thought 
about  you  then  as  you  are  now,  Marcus.  And  the 
terrible  beating  you  gave  that  big  boy,  three  or  four 
years  older  than  yourself,  because  he  pulled  my  hair ! 
I  felt  sorry  for  him  after  a  while  and  begged  you  not 
to  strike  him  any  more." 

"  I  showed  my  love  of  fighting  early,  didn't  I?  I 
was  already  getting  into  training  for  my  duel  with 
Styrax." 

"  And  the  ruined  fane  of  Pan,  overgrown  with  vines 
and  mosses  —  how  we  loved  to  play  around  it!  I 
wonder  if  you  have  forgotten  how  you  killed  the 
deadly  adder  there  just  as  he  was  coiled  to  spring  at 
me?  You  grasped  him  by  the  neck  just  in  time  and 
then  beat  his  ugly  head  to  pieces  with  a  stone.  I  was 
so  frightened  I  could  not  speak,  and  I  know  I  looked 
as  white  as  a  linen  robe  that  has  just  come  from  the 
fuller's." 

:<  No,  I  have  not  forgotten.  It  all  comes  back  to 
me  as  if  it  happened  yesterday,  though  that  little  inci 
dent  I  had  not  thought  of  since.  'T  was  a  vicious 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         275 

reptile,  but  I  believe  not  very  dangerous  after  all.  I 
fancy  we  were  both  more  alarmed  than  we  need  have 
been/' 

"  I  don't  know  how  dangerous  the  creature  was,  but 
I  know  there  never  was  another  boy  that  would  have 
had  the  courage  to  seize  it  by  the  neck  and  kill  it  as 
you  did.  But  you  never  were  afraid  of  anything, 
Marcus." 

"  Why  should  I  have  been?  A  cowardly  boy  makes 
a  cowardly  man,  and  the  Romans  have  never  known 
what  it  was  to  be  afraid." 

"  Very  true;  but  not  every  Roman  in  the  old  days 
was  a  Horatius,  and  no  one  living  besides  Marcus,  the 
son  of  Agrippa,  would  have  been  eager  to  face  Styrax 
in  the  arena.  You  were  born  to  do  great  things,  Mar 


cus." 


So  long  had  Delphium  been  playing  a  part  that  even 
now  she  could  not  speak  from  simple  natural  feeling 
without  a  purpose.  She  had  won  what  her  heart  de 
sired,  but  she  was  bent  on  strengthening  her  hold  upon 
Marcus'  affection.  Nor  could  she  have  chosen  a  bet 
ter  way.  By  adroit  flattery  and  by  dwelling  upon  the 
past  they  had  so  happily  shared  together,  she  was 
deepening  Marcus'  regard.  It  was  with  an  altogether 
pleased  feeling  that  he  answered  half  jestingly, 

"  So  my  friends  persist  in  telling  me.  It  is  getting 
to  be  quite  embarrassing.  I  shall  have  to  be  another 
Julius  Caesar  to  satisfy  them." 

They  both  sat  in  silence  for  a  while,  as  if  dwelling 
on  those  bygone  days  of  innocent  pleasure.  Then 
Marcus  continued, 


276         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

"  Yes,  those  were  beautiful  and  happy  days,  but 
happier  ones  are  in  store  for  us.  The  home  we  share 
together  will  bring  us  joys  far  brighter  than  any  we 
have  known.  But  I  want  to  hear  your  story.  I  want 
to  know  of  the  struggles  and  trials  you  have  had  to 
meet  and  bear  alone.  For  I  have  been  slow  to  realize 
what  a  hard  thing  it  was  for  a  young  girl  to  take  up 
the  burden  you  have  had  to  carry.  Let  me  hear  all 
about  it.  Why  was  it  that  you  had  to  leave  Catana?  " 

"  My  mother's  death  made  it  necessary.  We  were 
always  poor.  Even  while  my  mother  was  living  my 
father's  trade  had  so  fallen  away  that  it  brought  us 
barely  enough  to  subsist  upon.  And  he,  you  know, 
kind  and  good  though  he  is,  has  no  force  or  energy. 
I  saw  that  he  and  I  should  really  be  in  want  if  I  did 
not  do  something.  So  I  made  my  way  to  Rome  to  see 
what  could  be  done  to  support  us  both." 

"  That  was  immediately  after  your  mother's 
death?" 

"  No,  I  waited  for  a  year.  But  things  got  worse  and 
worse  till  I  really  had  to  make  some  sort  of  a  ven 


ture." 


'You  had  no  friends  to  help  you;  no  relatives  to 
turn  to?" 

1(  No.  People  are  afraid  to  be  friends  to  the  poor. 
Such  friendship  may  prove  burdensome.  It  was  no 
easy  thing  to  get  enough  money  together  for  the  jour 
ney  to  Rome." 

l(  I  thought  an  uncle  in  Syracuse  left  you  a  consid 
erable  sum." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  did  inherit  money  from  an  uncle  who 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         277 

died  there.  But  it  was  no  large  amount  and  I  put  it 
by  for  use  when  I  arrived  here.  It  would  not  have 
done,  you  know,  to  land  in  Rome  without  a  penny. 
So  you  see  I  had  to  be  very  frugal  while  I  was  on  the 
road.  Ah,  what  a  dreary  journey  that  was!  It 
brought  me  many  strange  experiences  and  one  dread 
ful  one.  But  I  got  here,  and  I  have  found  you,  and  I 
am  the  happiest  woman  in  the  world." 

Delphium  rested  her  head  on  Marcus'  knee,  and  he 
stroked  her  golden  hair  with  a  tender  and  caressing 
touch.  The  meager  glimpse  she  had  given  of  her  life 
had  moved  him.  What  she  had  been  through,  he  was 
just  beginning  to  understand.  When  he  first  met  her 
in  Rome  he  had  not  greatly  marveled  at  her  story. 
Everything  that  had  happened  seemed  to  have  come 
about  naturally  as  the  result  of  her  own  sagacity.  But 
he  wished  now  to  know  what  difficulties  she  had  met 
and  how  resourceful  she  had  shown  herself  in  over 
coming  them.  He  was  sure  the  more  he  heard  the 
more  he  should  admire  her  ready  wit  and  her  cour 
age. 

'  You  have  indeed  come  through  sore  straits,"  he 
said  to  her,  "  and  that  long  journey  must  have  been  a 
trying  one.  Tell  me  more  about  it.  You  say  it 
brought  you  one  dreadful  experience.  What  was 
that?" 

"  Oh,  that  is  a  story  I  should  really  like  to  tell  you. 
It  is  rather  an  exciting  one,  for  the  adventure  I  had 
was  stirring  and  dangerous  enough.  It  happened  at 
a  little  inn,  not  very  far  from  Tegianum,  where  I  ar 
rived  just  as  dusk  was  gathering  one  evening  in  Au- 


278         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

gust.  The  day  had  been  warm.  I  had  walked  far 
and  I  was  tired  and  hungry.  So,  scanty  as  my  little 
hoard  of  money  was,  I  sought  shelter  and  food. 

'  The  inn  was  a  poor  looking  hovel,  with  one 
story.  When  I  entered  it  I  found  myself  face  to  face 
with  a  man,  plainly  the  keeper,  whom  I  distrusted  the 
moment  I  set  eyes  upon  him.  He  was  small,  thin,  and 
wizened,  with  a  nose  and  eye  that  made  me  think  of  a 
hawk.  His  wife,  who  appeared  immediately,  looked 
grim  and  sour.  I  saw  at  once  that  it  was  a  doubtful 
place  to  spend  the  night  in,  but  I  was  so  hungry  that  I 
asked  for  food.  The  woman  brought  lentils  and  bar 
ley  gruel.  Just  as  I  was  beginning  to  eat,  a  youth, 
perhaps  twenty-five  years  old,  stepped  briskly  into  the 
inn,  whistling  merrily  all  the  while.  The  poor  hovel 
had  no  dining  room.  I  was  making  my  slender  meal 
very  near  to  the  door  which  stood  open  on  the  warm 
summer  evening.  So  I  could  note  the  stranger  well, 
and  his  frank  blue  eye  and  kindly  face  made  me  sure  I 
could  make  a  friend  of  him. 

'  Good  evening,  friend  Corbo,'  he  said  as  he  en 
tered.  '  You  are  as  merry  and  handsome  as  ever,  I 
see.  And  you,  my  good  dame,  you  still  have  that  be 
witching  look  that  would  make  the  sourest  vinegar  turn 
into  sweet  wine.  Nowhere  else  do  I  find  such  jolly 
hosts.  'Tis  like  a  bit  of  sunshine  on  a  cloudy  day  to 
look  at  you.  Come  now,  your  best  cheer!  Real 
wine !  None  of  that  muddy  mixture  of  vinegar  dregs 
and  turnip  juice!  And  a  good  generous  slice  from 
your  flitch  of  bacon.  Your  gruel  is  only  fit  for  swine. 

'  But  what  have   we  here  ?     The  brightest   eyes 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         279 

and  the  fairest  face  I've  seen  in  a  lustrum.  And  din 
ing  alone?  By  Pollux,  what  a  shame!  And  can  I 
believe  my  eyes?  You  rascal,  Corbo!  You  ought  to 
be  down  on  your  knees  serving  this  fair  stranger  with 
your  best  wine  and  a  fresh  fowl  from  your  roost,  and 
you  have  given  her  those  tasteless  slops.' 

"  With  that,  to  my  utter  astonishment,  the  auda 
cious  fellow  seized  the  wooden  bowl  of  gruel  from 
which  I  was  eating  and  threw  it  out  of  the  door.  He 
then  sat  down  at  the  table  with  me,  made  the  scowling 
Corbo  produce  his  best,  and  chatted  merrily  on  while 
he  compelled  me  to  eat  and  drink  with  him.  I  did 
not  think  of  resisting  him  any  more  than  I  should 
think  of  resisting  a  torrent  swollen  by  the  rains. 

"  Before  we  had  finished  eating  and  drinking  an 
other  man  entered  the  inn.  The  darkness  had  gath 
ered  and  the  room  was  now  lighted  with  pine  knots 
that  blazed  with  a  red  smoky  flame.  In  the  glow  of  it 
I  could  see  that  the  new-comer  was  a  few  years  older 
than  the  one  who  had  come  in  before  him.  He  was 
short,  but  powerfully  built,  and  he  plainly  possessed 
enormous  strength.  His  eye  was  dark  and  gleaming, 
and  his  face,  with  its  close-trimmed  beard  and  ugly 
mouth,  had  a  wolfish  look  in  the  smoky  light.  As  he 
entered  I  saw  that  he  and  the  host  exchanged  glances 
as  if  they  understood  each  other. 

"  He  ordered  food  and  wine  and  seated  himself  at 
the  small  table  where  I  was  eating  with  the  other 
guest.  For  a  while  he  said  nothing,  but  stared  at  me 
continually.  To  the  questions  of  my  merry  companion 
who  greeted  him  heartily,  he  only  replied  with  a  sullen 


28o         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

look.  Presently  he  asked  me  who  I  was  and  where 
I  came  from;  and  when  the  other  youth  attempted  to 
join  in  the  talk  in  his  lively  way,  this  churlish  fellow 
turned  upon  him  with  a  menacing  air  and  told  him  not 
to  speak  unless  he  was  questioned. 

'  The  other  seemed  more  amused  than  angered. 
He  laughed  and  began  to  entertain  me  with  a  droll 
story.  I  showed  that  I  enjoyed  his  wit  and  did  every 
thing  I  could  to  render  the  new-comer  jealous.  I  was 
afraid  of  him  and  saw  my  safety  in  making  the  other 
my  champion.  At  a  moment  when  the  stout  ruffian 
had  become  so  exasperated  that  he  was  threatening 
the  other  and  forcing  a  quarrel,  I  stole  the  knife  he 
wore  in  his  belt  without  his  knowing  it.  A  moment 
later  the  two  men  had  each  other  by  the  throat.  My 
friend  —  for  so  I  had  come  to  regard  the  first  comer 
—  was  plainly  overmatched,  but  he  threw  his  oppo 
nent  by  a  wrestler's  trick.  But  the  thrown  man  was 
instantly  on  his  feet  and  the  two  again  rushed  at  each 
other,  each  feeling  for  his  knife.  The  ruffian  uttered 
a  cry  of  rage  on  finding  his  was  gone,  but  closed  with 
the  other,  though  he  received  a  thrust  in  the  breast  as 
he  did  so.  Severe  as  the  wound  was,  he  seemed  un 
conscious  of  it  and  struggled  frantically  to  get  the 
knife.  At  last  he  got  it,  so  great  was  his  strength, 
brought  my  protector  down  on  the  floor  beneath  him 
and  buried  the  knife  in  his  side. 

"  I  had  risen  to  my  feet  and  was  watching  the  strug 
gle  with  an  interest  like  that  which  I  felt  when  you 
fought  with  Styrax.  If  the  merry-hearted  fellow  who 
had  been  so  friendly  to  me  was  killed,  I  should  be  at 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         281 

the  mercy  of  the  inn-keeper  and  this  murderous  vil 
lain.  I  must  balk  him  or  I  should  be  lost.  As  he 
drew  the  knife  out  from  the  wound,  I  rushed  in  and 
slashed  his  wrist  with  his  own  knife,  slipped  the 
weapon  into  the  hand  of  the  wounded  man  and  darted 
back.  Finding  his  right  hand  useless,  the  man  on  top 
shifted  the  knife  to  his  left;  but  before  he  could  strike 
he  fell  back  dead.  My  friend  had  stabbed  him 
through  the  heart. 

"  He  was  a  horrible  sight  as  he  rolled  over  on  the 
floor  with  his  wide-staring  eyes,  but  I  was  too  excited 
to  mind  him.  I  helped  my  friend  to  rise.  He  stag 
gered  to  a  chair  and  sat  there  faint  and  pallid,  looking 
as  if  he  were  wounded  to  the  death.  But  his  gay 
laughing  mood  was  not  even  then  subdued.  He 
looked  up  at  me  with  a  smile  and  said, 

'  How  clever  you  are  with  your  fingers!  If  you 
hadn't  been  a  thief,  I  couldn't  have  been  a  murderer. 
For  your  stratagem  and  your  timely  assistance,  accept 
my  thanks/ 

*  Then  he  looked  at  the  inn-keeper  and  his  wife 
who  were  gazing  at  us  both  with  scowling  faces.  The 
woman  had  just  come  in,  after  the  fray  was  over. 
The  man  had  watched  the  encounter,  and  he  would 
have  made  it  end  otherwise  had  he  not  trusted  in  the 
strength  and  the  resource  of  the  wretch  who  had  per 
ished.  He  did  rush  forward  at  the  last  to  interfere, 
but  it  was  too  late. 

'  What  delightful  guests  you  have  in  this  charm 
ing  resort  of  yours!  '  said  the  wounded  man,  address 
ing  the  guilty  looking  pair.  c  I  hope  you  expect  no 


282         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

more  of  them  this  evening.     I  enjoy  their  company, 
but  I  am  ill  fitted  to  entertain  them/ 

"  He  gazed  searchingly  at  them  as  he  uttered  these 
jibing  comments,  but  their  grim  faces  revealed  noth 
ing.  So  he  continued, 

*  It  was  well  for  you  that  your  scheme  to  rob  and 
murder  me  fell  through.  You  were  in  league  with 
that  piece  of  dead  carrion,'  here  he  pointed  contempt 
uously  to  the  man  he  had  killed  and  I  think  he  would 
have  kicked  the  prostrate  body  if  he  had  had  the 
strength,  '  and  a  nice  understanding  you  had  with  him. 
You  gave  unwary  travelers  shelter;  he  cut  their 
throats;  then  you  and  he  divided  the  profits.  But 
bear  in  mind  that  my  friends  know  where  I  am,  and  if 
you  try  to  play  any  more  of  your  merry  tricks,  either 
on  me  or  this  fair  friend  of  mine,  it  will  go  hard  with 
you.  And  now  kind  lady  with  the  light  and  ready 
fingers,  please  help  me  to  a  room.  It  will  be  some 
days,  I  think,  before  I  am  on  my  feet  again.' 

I(  He  was  indeed  desperately  wounded,  and  it  was 
only  by  careful  nursing  that  I  brought  him  back  to 
health  and  strength.  It  was  a  task  in  which  the  inn 
keeper  and  his  wife  eagerly  assisted,  for  they  were 
now  thoroughly  cowed;  and  it  was  a  task  which  I 
found  far  from  irksome.  For  it  was  always  a  pleas 
ure  to  do  for  my  gay  deliverer  and  to  be  with  him. 
His  merry  humor  never  left  him  and  he  was  the  best 
of  company.  And  he  was  such  a  gallant  looking  fel 
low,  with  his  yellow  curling  hair  and  his  bright  blue 
eyes!  He  was  generous  too;  for  he  gave  me  all  the 
gold  he  had  when  we  parted,  and  it  was  no  mean  sum. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         283 

Ah,  how  fortunate  I  was  in  finding  such  a  protector! 
Those  wretches  would  have  murdered  me  if  he  had 
not  turned  up  just  when  he  did." 

Interesting  as  Marcus  found  the  story,  he  had  lis 
tened  to  it  with  a  growing  dismay.  The  character  of 
the  youth  with  whom  Delphium  had  been  brought  into 
such  intimate  relations  was  but  too  apparent.  Well 
did  he  know  the  type.  Was  Delphium  in  ignorance 
of  it?  Had  she  failed  to  see  what  the  fellow  really 
was?  It  was  hard  to  believe  that  he  had  never 
showed  his  true  nature  to  her.  She  had  taken  his 
gold.  Why  had  she  done  so?  Had  he  given  her 
gold  just  because  she  had  nursed  and  cured  him? 
Marcus  tried  to  think  that  this  was  so ;  yet  he  found  it 
hard  to  think  it,  and  he  was  moreover  puzzled  by  the 
story.  It  seemed  an  echo  of  a  tale  he  had  heard  long 
since  and  forgotten.  Harassed  by  these  vexing 
thoughts,  he  was  in  no  laudatory  or  appreciative  mood 
when  Delphium  finished  speaking.  Even  her  ready 
wit  and  her  resourcefulness  had  not  made  a  wholly 
pleasant  impression  upon  him.  As  she  told  how  she 
stole  the  knife  and  afterwards  used  it,  the  vision  of 
Naarah  flashed  upon  his  mind.  He  could  not  think 
of  the  lovely  Hebrew,  with  her  rare  delicacy  and 
modesty,  as  lending  a  deciding  hand  in  a  tavern  brawl. 
So  when  Delphium  brought  her  narration  to  an  end 
he  made  no  comment.  Surprised  at  his  silence,  she 
looked  up  at  him  questioningly,  for  she  had  expected 
to  receive  praise  for  the  presence  of  mind  and  the 
courage  she  had  shown.  Her  look  recalled  him  to 
himself,  and  he  said  with  as  much  feeling  as  he  could 


284         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

command, 

"  An  exciting  adventure  it  was  indeed.  What  a  ter 
rible  experience  it  was  for  a  young  girl  to  go  through 
and  what  wit  and  bravery  you  showed !  Not  another 
girl  living,  I  am  sure,  could  have  saved  herself  as  you 
did.  But  what  was  the  end  of  it  all?  What  became 
of  the  man  whose  life  you  saved  and  where  did  you 
part  from  him?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  what  became  of  him,  but  I  must  tell 
you  of  our  parting,  it  was  such  a  curious  one.  He  in 
sisted  on  going  with  me  as  far  as  Eburi;  for  he  said 
he  wanted  to  see  me  so  far  on  my  way  that  I  should 
run  no  further  danger.  There  he  took  leave  of  me, 
and  as  we  parted  he  said,  *  Good-by,  little  kitten !  I 
shall  always  remember  how  well  you  scratched.'  ' 

Marcus  almost  leaped  from  his  chair  as  he  heard 
these  last  words.  He  placed  the  story  now.  Some 
three  years  before  this  a  lively,  witty,  but  utterly  dis 
solute  youth  from  Herculaneum  had  visited  friends  in 
Rome  and  regaled  the  gay  youth  of  the  Capital  with 
accounts  of  his  amorous  conquests.  He  was  a  capti 
vating  but  altogether  heartless  fellow,  who  was  always 
in  quest  of  new  victims.  As  soon  as  a  girl  had  yielded 
to  his  seductions,  he  became  indifferent  towards  her 
and  looked  for  charms  not  yet  known  or  appreciated. 
It  was  one  of  his  boasts  that  when  there  were  no  fair 
faces  in  his  own  city  that  tempted  him,  he  wandered 
far  into  the  country  in  search  of  spicy  adventures  and 
won  easy  victories  over  the  bright-eyed  but  guileless 
rustic  maidens.  Marcus  had  not  met  him  but  had 
been  told  of  his  graceful,  winsome  appearance  and  his 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         285 

ready  tongue.  Some  of  his  stories,  too,  reached  Mar 
cus'  ears.  In  particular,  he  had  heard  a  meager  and 
undoubtedly  twisted  version  of  an  exciting  encounter 
at  an  inn  and  of  the  part  played  in  it  by  a  beautiful 
girl,  who,  as  this  vicious  fellow  wickedly  phrased  it, 
had  not  been  content  with  saving  his  life  but  had  also 
presented  him  with  her  honor.  But,  hearing  only  the 
bare  outlines  of  the  story  and  viewing  such  heartless 
doings  with  contempt,  Marcus  had  for  the  most  part 
forgotten  it.  He  had  only  remembered  clearly  the 
striking  words  with  which  this  gay  adventurer  had 
said  good-by  to  his  fair  deliverer,  and  they  were  the 
very  ones  Delphium  had  just  uttered  as  she  brought 
her  narration  to  a  close. 

Startled  and  shocked,  Marcus  put  Delphium  gently 
away  from  him,  rose  and  paced  slowly  up  and  down 
the  room.  His  mind  was  in  a  tumult.  But  he  con 
trolled  himself  so  as  to  betray  no  agitation  and  said 
in  a  careless  tone, 

"  So  that  was  the  last  you  saw  of  him.  I  suppose, 
however,  he  told  you  where  he  lived?  " 

But  the  astute  Greek  had  grown  wary.  She  had 
taken  alarm  at  the  sudden  start  Marcus  had  given 
when  she  mentioned  the  words  of  farewell.  Perhaps 
he  had  met  this  man  who  held  her  reputation  in  her 
hands.  It  was  well  at  any  rate  to  be  cautious.  She 
would  conceal  the  truth. 

'  Yes,"  she  replied.  "  He  told  me  his  home  was  in 
Capua. " 

"And  his  name?" 

[<  His  name  has  almost  escaped  me.     Let  me  see  if 


286         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

I    can    recall    it.     Yes  .  .  .  yes  .  .  .  his    name    was 
.  .  .  Quintus  Cerialis." 

Marcus  again  seated  himself.  He  was  both  puz 
zled  and  dismayed.  What  should  he  do?  Tax  Del- 
phium  with  untruth  and  with  worse  than  that?  There 
was  no  other  way;  but  such  terrible  accusations  could 
not  be  roughly  thrown  at  her  when  he  had  just  been 
giving  her  the  tenderness  a  man  shows  to  the  woman 
he  loves. 

"  Delphium,"  he  said,  after  she  had  spent  some 
painful  moments  in  wondering  what  was  passing 
through  his  mind,  "  your  memory,  I  fear,  has  played 
you  false.  Think  again  and  tell  me  if  the  man  did 
not  live  in  Herculaneum !  " 

Even  before  Marcus  had  ended  his  question  the 
quick-witted  woman  saw  that  she  had  erred.  Marcus 
knew  more  than  she  had  fancied.  She  must  retrace 
her  steps. 

'  You  may  be  right,"  she  answered.  "  The  matter 
never  made  any  impression  on  my  mind.  I  presume  it 
was  Herculaneum." 

"  And  his  name  —  did  that  make  no  impression  on 
your  mind?  How  could  you  confuse  Quintus  Cerialis 
with  Milvius  Capulo?" 

Delphium  felt  like  one  who  was  being  drawn  into 
a  quicksand.  She  could  not  answer  with  her  accus 
tomed  readiness.  She  was  enraged  with  herself  for 
telling  the  tale  of  adventure  that  had  got  her  into  trou 
ble;  she  was  thoroughly  alarmed  as  she  realized  the 
horrible  suspicion  that  had  arisen  in  Marcus'  mind. 
Suspicion?  Perhaps  it  was  more  than  that.  Perhaps 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         287 

he  had  met  Milvius  Capulo  and  heard  the  whole  story, 
with  the  exception  of  her  own  name,  from  his  lips. 
She  must  summon  all  her  wit  and  courage  and  defend 
herself.  After  thinking  for  a  moment,  she  answered, 

"  The  name  was  Milvius  Capulo.  I  remember 
now.  But  it  is  four  years  since  it  all  happened.  You 
cannot  think  it  strange  that  it  slipped  from  my  memory 
and  that  I  recalled  another  in  place  of  it.  The  man, 
of  course,  I  could  never  forget,  but  I  had  never 
thought  of  his  name  since  I  parted  from  him." 

"  You  did  not  forget  my  own  name  in  the  time  that 
passed  without  your  seeing  me." 

"  And  should  not  have  forgotten  it  if  I  had  lived 
to  be  eighty  and  had  never  set  eyes  on  you  again.  But 
we  saw  each  other  every  day  for  three  whole  years. 
This  man  I  only  knew  for  a  month  and  then  he  passed 
out  of  my  mind." 

"  How  strange !  You  saved  his  life.  You  sat  for 
long  days  by  his  bedside  nursing  him.  You  were  cap 
tivated,  as  you  have  yourself  admitted,  by  his  airs  and 
graces.  And  yet  he  passes  from  your  mind  so  far  that 
you  do  not  remember  his  name." 

Delphium's  mood  changed.  She  took  the  aggres 
sive,  sharply  and  vehemently.  She  saw  in  it  her  only 
safety. 

"Marcus!"  she  exclaimed.  "What  does  all  this 
mean?  What  does  it  signify  whether  I  remembered 
the  man's  name  or  not?  You  come  here  and  declare 
your  love  for  me  and  then  question  me  as  if  you  had 
a  vile  suspicion  in  your  mind.  Is  that  the  way  to  treat 
a  woman?  Shame  on  you,  I  say !  It  is  you  that  needs 


288         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

to  justify  yourself,  not  I." 

Delphium  stood  before  him  with  her  bosom  heav 
ing  and  her  eyes  sparkling,  the  picture  of  righteous 
wrath.  Marcus  was  sick  at  heart,  but  not  for  a  mo 
ment  was  he  influenced  by  an  indignation  that  he  knew 
to  be  assumed. 

"  You  are  wrong,  Delphium,"  he  said  gently,  "  but 
I  will  not  question  you  farther.  I  will  tell  you  plainly 
what  has  come  to  my  knowledge.  Three  years  ago 
Milvius  Capulo  visited  friends  in  Rome.  I  did  not 
meet  him,  but  I  heard  how  he  boasted  of  his  power  to 
bend  young  women  to  his  evil  will.  That  it  was  not 
idle  boasting  was  proved  by  his  conduct  here;  for  a 
well  known  family  upon  the  Quirinal  has  reason  to 
rue  the  day  that  he  set  foot  in  the  city.  One  of  his 
stories  —  and  he  circulated  many  —  came  to  my  ears. 
It  told  of  an  exciting  adventure  in  an  inn  in  which  he 
nearly  lost  his  life.  He  was  saved  by  a  beautiful  girl 
whom  he  lured  into  that  shadowy  path  that  brings  sor 
row  in  the  end.  He  did  not  give  her  name.  He  was 
not  so  vile  as  that.  But  his  farewell  words  to  her 
were :  *  Good-by,  little  kitten !  I  shall  always  re 
member  how  well  you  scratched.'  ' 

Delphium  could  hardly  keep  from  gnashing  her 
teeth  with  rage.  That  she  should  have  betrayed  her 
self  when  it  would  have  been  so  easy  to  avoid  rousing 
suspicion !  But  she  could  make  a  brave  fight  yet. 

"  And  that  is  all!  "  she  cried  fiercely.  "  You  con 
demn  me  on  the  word  of  a  vile  wretch  who  is  as  false- 
tongued  as  he  is  wicked.  The  word  of  a  woman  you 
profess  to  love  is  nothing.  That  of  this  monster  of 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         289 

evil  is  everything.  For  shame,  I  say  I  For  shame! 
I  thought  you  were  large-minded  and  generous,  but 
you  are  like  all  the  rest.  Was  there  ever  a  man  who 
knew  how  to  be  fair  and  just  to  a  woman?  " 

"  Delphium,  if  I  could  believe  you,  if  I  could  think 
the  feeling  you  show  is  genuine,  I  should  go  home  to 
night  the  happiest  man  in  Rome.  I  should  be  so 
happy  that  I  should  shout  aloud  for  very  gladness. 
But  I  cannot.  If  I  do  not  know  Milvius  Capulo,  I 
know  what  he  is.  He  is  not  a  mere  vain  boaster.  He 
is  one  of  those  evil-hearted  men  who  are  never  happy 
when  their  vicious  will  is  balked.  If  you  had  resisted 
him,  would  he  have  given  you  gold  and  parted  pleas 
antly  from  you?  No,  he  would  have  given  you  no 
gold  and  he  would  have  followed  you  to  Rome  and 
begged  and  importuned  and  threatened  you  till  he  saw 
it  was  of  no  use.  And  even  then  he  would  not  have 
given  up.  He  would  have  used  stratagem  when  en 
treaty  failed.  It  is  your  own  story  that  condemns  you, 
Delphium,  not  I.  It  is  your  effort  to  conceal  the  truth 
that  condemns  you.  You  did  not  forget  his  name  and 
his  residence.  It  is  impossible  that  you  should  have 
forgotten  them.  You  had  better  tell  me  the  whole 
truth,  Delphium.  It  is  the  only  way." 

While  Marcus  was  uttering  these  terrible  words, 
Delphium  had  moved  wearily  to  the  side  of  the  room 
and  leaned  against  the  wall.  She  did  not  change  her 
posture  as  Marcus  finished,  but  continued  to  stand 
there  with  a  drawn  white  face  and  down-cast  eyes. 
After  a  moment  of  silence  she  said  in  a  low  tense  voice, 

"  It  is  all  true,  Marcus.     I  am  guilty.     I  do  not 


290         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

deny  it  any  longer.  But  I  was  so  young  and  it  has 
been  my  one  and  only  fault.  Be  generous  and  forgive 
it!  It  would  never  have  happened  had  I  known  what 
love  really  was,  but  I  never  knew  till  you  found  me 
here  in  Rome." 

Marcus  did  not  at  once  reply.  It  was  not  that  he 
was  questioning  whether  he  could  grant  the  appeal. 
It  did  indeed  move  him,  but  to  grant  it  was  quite  im 
possible.  The  truth  was  too  damning.  But  was  it 
the  whole  truth?  That  was  what  he  was  considering. 
Unhappy  suspicions  were  forcing  themselves  in  upon 
his  mind.  Had  Delphium  told  him  what  was  false 
when  he  first  met  her  in  Rome?  He  now  remembered 
distinctly  that  she  had  then  stated  the  money  used  in 
opening  the  wine  room  had  all  come  from  an  uncle 
who  had  died  in  Syracuse.  But  just  now  she  had  pro 
nounced  the  sum  a  small  one.  Was  the  story  a  mere 
invention?  She  had  taken  money  from  Milvius  Ca- 
pulo.  Had  she  taken  it  from  others  of  like  character? 
It  had  always  seemed  a  little  strange  to  him  that  she 
had  not  made  her  arrival  known  to  him  and  his  father 
as  soon  as  she  reached  the  city.  Had  she  avoided 
them  because  there  were  facts  about  her  life  that  she 
did  not  wish  them  to  know?  And  what  were  those 
ghosts  to  which  Cethegus  had  so  pointedly  alluded, 
and  which,  very  likely,  he  had  afterwards  made  light 
of  through  unwillingness  to  compromise  a  woman?  In 
the  face  of  these  accusing  circumstances  he  could  not 
help  feeling  that  her  word  was  worthless.  She  had 
tried  to  deceive  him  once.  She  was  surely  deceiving 
him  again. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         291 

He  gazed  searchingly  at  her.  She  tried  to  meet  his 
eyes,  but  read  suspicion  in  them  and  could  not  bear 
their  scrutiny.  Her  glance  wandered;  her  face,  even 
in  the  rosy  light,  was  white  with  alarm. 

"  Delphium,"  said  Marcus  very  quietly  and  slowly, 
"was  it  your  one  and  only  fault?  What  of  those 
ghosts  that  Cethegus  questioned  you  about  only  an 
hour  ago?  " 

"  It  was  only  an  attempt  at  a  jest  —  a  very  poor  one 
as  he  himself  acknowledged.  I  asked  him  to  name 
them,  and  his  reply  was  a  mere  pleasantry." 

"  There  was  something  pointed  in  his  manner. 
Perhaps  if  I  myself  asked  him  to  name  them,  he  would 
not  answer  by  a  jest." 

"  Ask  him  then!  "  said  Delphium  in  a  flame  of  pas 
sion,  her  face  growing  hard  and  defiant  as  she  spoke. 
'The  coward,  to  betray  a  woman!  Oh,  it  is  cruel 
and  shameful  to  bring  up  the  past  and  throw  it  in  my 
face.  I  had  buried  it.  Why  could  you  not  let  it 
alone?" 

"  Such  a  past  is  hard  to  bury,  Delphium.  It  was 
not  I  that  brought  it  to  light.  It  was  your  own  words 
that  revealed  it." 

"  And  what  if  it  stands  revealed?  So  far  as  my 
own  life  goes,  it  is  buried.  It  was  buried  long  ago. 
I  did  have  a  lover.  It  was  while  I  was  on  my  way  to 
Rome  and  just  before  I  reached  the  city.  But  I  cast 
him  off  when  I  opened  the  wine  room.  Why  should 
he  come  between  us?  I  love  you  wholly.  I  would 
live  for  you,  die  for  you,  devote  my  whole  life  to  you. 
What  woman  could  do  more?  " 


292         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

Delphium  quivered  with  emotion  as  she  made  her 
plea.  She  made  it  despairingly,  and  yet  she  was  not 
absolutely  without  hope.  She  knew  how  large-minded 
and  how  generous  Marcus  was.  She  thought  it  pos 
sible  that  he  might  forgive  what  surely  no  other  man 
in  all  the  world  would  overlook.  Yet  passionate  as 
her  plea  was,  it  condemned  her.  She  was  not  re 
morseful  over  the  past.  She  was  angry  that  it  was 
ruining  her  hopes  of  happiness.  Had  she  cast  her 
self  at  Marcus'  feet  in  an  agony  of  shame  and  sorrow, 
she  would  have  roused  his  generosity  and  made  of 
him  a  staunch  and  loyal  friend.  But  her  selfish  nature 
had  to  assert  itself  and  she  could  only  make  an  appeal 
that  showed  concern  for  her  own  welfare  instead  of 
an  ennobling  passion  that  purified  the  erring  nature 
and  palliated  the  past. 

Marcus  was  indeed  stirred  by  her  pleading,  but  it 
was  not  the  stirring  that  could  keep  any  embers  glow 
ing  in  the  ashes  of  his  love.  He  was  a  lover  no 
longer.  Passion  was  dead  within  him.  The  ardor 
that  had  flamed  up  in  his  heart  so  suddenly  had  been 
quenched  like  an  altar  fire  on  which  a  quickly  clouded 
sky  has  dropped  a  copious  rain.  He  realized  now 
that  his  feeling  for  Delphium  had  been  roused  by  de 
liberate  design  on  her  part.  Standing  before  her  and 
looking  with  pity  at  her  hard  set  face,  he  said  sorrow- 
fully, 

"  It  cannot  be,  Delphium.  It  cannot  be.  There  is 
kindly  and  tender  feeling  in  my  heart  for  you,  but  it  is 
impossible  that  we  should  spend  our  lives  together.  I 
never  knew  you  till  to-night.  Now  that  I  do  know 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         293 

you,  our  ways  must  lie  apart." 

"  Oh,  yes!  You  have  seen  a  face,  a  dainty,  silly 
baby  face.  Well,  go  and  seek  it!  You  are  large  to 
play  with  dolls,  but  go  and  seek  it  if  you  will!  " 

"  I  go  to  seek  no  woman's  face.  I  go  away  sick  at 
heart,  to  grieve  over  what  might  have  been  and  to 
hope  that  in  some  way  happiness,  real  happiness,  may 
yet  come  to  you." 

"  You  will  grieve  for  a  day,  no  doubt.  Then  you 
will  seek  and  find  your  doll  and  think  how  much  pret 
tier  and  nicer  she  is  than  I.  Very  well.  Seek  her,  I 
say.  Be  happy  with  her,  if  you  can!  Yes,  be  happy 
with  her,  if  you  can,  if  you  can!  " 

It  was  in  a  scornful  ringing  voice  that  Delphium 
repeated  the  phrase  and  she  followed  it  by  a  low  mock 
ing  laugh. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Delphium?"  said  Marcus 
gravely,  as  he  gazed  searchingly  at  her. 

'  You  will  find  out  in  good  time,"  answered  Del 
phium  in  the  same  vibrant,  taunting  tones.  "  You 
will  find  out  in  good  time.  Yes,  and  your  baby  doll 
will  find  out,  too.  A  woman  who  is  set  aside  for  an 
other  does  not  sit  down  with  sweet  and  happy  thoughts 
in  her  heart.  The  time  may  come  when  you  will  be 
sorry  you  cast  me  off." 

'  That  time  could  never  come,  Delphium.  You 
have  showed  me  yourself.  A  love  that  could  so  easily 
turn  into  malice  I  shall  never  think  was  worth  the  win 
ning.  Good-by." 

Slowly  Marcus  walked  to  his  home,  and  sleep  vis 
ited  him  little  that  night.  Delphium  remained  stand- 


294         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

ing  for  a  short  time  after  he  left  her;  then  she  sank 
down  on  the  cushions  at  her  feet  and  burst  into  a  storm 
of  weeping.  Her  dream  of  happiness  had  been  brief 
indeed,  but  how  bright  and  entrancing  it  was  while  it 
lasted!  Now  it  had  passed.  The  sky  which  had  been 
golden  was  gray  and  dreary  and  her  heart  was  deso 
late.  She  moaned  aloud  in  her  sorrow  and  found 
words  to  relieve  the  transports  of  her  grief. 

"  Fool,  fool  that  I  was!  "  she  cried.  "  To  win  him 
and  to  lose  him  all  in  a  single  hour !  Why,  why  did 
I  do  it?  Why  did  I  betray  myself  by  telling  him  that 
miserable  story?  It  was  all  so  needless.  I  ought  to 
have  known  enough  to  let  the  past  alone.  A  witless 
child  should  have  known  better.  And  you,  you  who 
pride  yourself  on  your  cleverness;  you,  who  have  been 
luring  him  on  through  these  long  months,  you  to  ruin 
everything  by  the  folly  of  a  moment!  Oh,  I  could 
almost  tear  my  own  tongue  out  for  letting  it  run  on  in 
such  a  senseless  way.  And  yet,  would  the  end  have 
been  any  different  if  I  had  not  talked  so  like  a  brainless 
fool?  A  man  can  go  wrong  and  pay  no  price  for  it. 
He  can  wallow  in  the  mire  if  he  pleases,  and  the  world 
will  call  him  white  as  snow  if  only  he  has  name  and 
rank  behind  him.  But  the  woman  must  be  as  spot 
less  as  the  Vestals.  If  there  is  one  stain  on  her  stola, 
men  think  she  is  as  foul  as  the  vile  stuff  the  Cloaca 
empties  into  the  Tiber.  Ahenobarbus  was  right.  I 
ought  to  have  believed  him.  If  a  woman  makes  a 
single  misstep,  down  she  goes  and  she  can  never  get 
upon  her  feet  again.  Cethegus  would  have  told  all 
he  knew  about  me  if  the  truth  had  not  come  out  just 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         295 

as  it  has  done  to-night.  I  was  as  simple  as  a  child 
not  to  see  it.  Oh,  why  did  I  ever  try  to  win  him? 
Why  did  I  build  up  any  hopes  of  happiness?  It  was 
folly;  nothing  but  folly.  I  have  plucked  roses  that 
did  not  grow  in  my  own  garden,  and  now  I  must  pay 
the  price.  No  home  for  me!  No  happiness  for  me! 
I'm  to  be  Delphium  of  the  wine  room  till  my  hair  is 
gray.  Must  I  be  just  that,  though?  Bah!  I  am 
acting  like  a  fool  again.  There  are  plenty  of  rose 
gardens  left,  and  I'll  find  the  roses  in  them  —  yes, 
and  as  many  as  I  want.  But  I  won't  give  up  the  wine 
room  yet  awhile.  It  pays,  and  I  will  go  on  with.it  till 
I  have  cooked  a  broth  for  that  gladiator  who  thinks  I 
am  not  good  enough  for  him  and  for  that  doll-faced 
Hebrew  girl.  When  they  have  drunk  it,  he  will  be 
sorry  he  ever  flouted  me.  Oh,  yes !  He  will  be 
sorry.  Now,  let  me  think !  What  shall  it  be  ?  What 
shall  it  be?" 

The  unhappy  woman  ceased  to  speak  and  began  to 
brood  over  schemes  of  vengeance.  Presently  a  low 
exultant  laugh  burst  from  her  as  a  hellish  plan  came 
into  her  mind. 

"  I  have  it!  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  have  it,  and  that 
white-faced  doll  of  his  shall  pay.  Yes,  she  shall  pay 
such  a  price  that  she  will  be  sorry  she  was  ever  born, 
and  he  will  be  as  sorry  as  she." 


XXVIII 

THE  next  day  Marcus  sought  Cethegus  at  his 
home  on  the  Viminal. 
"  Cethegus,"  he  said  as  soon  as  they  had 
exchanged  civilities,  u  why  didn't  you  tell  me  the  truth 
about  Delphium  when  I  asked  you  last  night?  " 

'  What  have  you  found  out?  "  answered  Cethegus 
evasively. 

"  I  have  found  out  that  those  ghosts  you  hinted  at 
were  real." 

"Then  there  really  were  ghosts?     I  knew  of  but 


one." 


1  There  were  two.  But  why  did  you  not  tell  me  of 
the  one?  It  would  have  saved  mischief." 

"  How  was  I  to  know  that?  What  mischief  has 
there  been?  I  am  sorry  to  have  been  the  cause  of 
trouble,  but  it  seemed  hard  to  strike  a  woman  down 
when  she  was  trying  to  get  on  her  feet.  I  don't  be 
lieve  you  would  have  done  it." 

"  Perhaps  not.  At  any  rate  it  was  the  word  you 
dropped  out  about  the  ghosts  that  finally  helped  me  to 
see  the  truth.  So,  after  all,  I  am  indebted  to  you. 
As  for  the  mischief,  it  was  not  serious.  Moreover,  it 
has  had  a  use  for  me.  I  have  played  long  enough. 
Now  I  am  going  to  find  something  to  do  that  will  take 
all  my  energy  and  time.  So  you  will  see  me  at  Del- 

296 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         297 

phium's  no  more." 

"  Which  really  means  that  you  and  Delphium  are 
no  longer  friends.  I  am  sorry  for  that,  and  sorry  that 
we  shall  not  see  you  at  our  merry-makings." 

"  I  am  sorry  too.  I  shall  miss  the  comrades  with 
whom  I  have  drained  so  many  cups.  But  no  word  of 
this  to  any  of  them.  It  would  only  hurt  Delphium  and 
cause  them  to  guess  her  secrets.  Farewell." 

Cethegus  sat  in  deep  thought  for  some  time  after 
Marcus  left  him.  What  did  it  all  mean?  Had  Mar 
cus  really  found  himself  in  love  with  Delphium,  roused 
her  hopes,  and  then  caused  a  rupture  by  discovering 
what  she  was  trying  to  hide?  He  could  see  no  other 
way  of  accounting  for  this  sudden  ending  of  an  old 
friendship;  and  if  this  was  the  explanation,  what  bear 
ing  would  the  whole  incident  have  on  his  own  fortunes? 
Surely,  Marcus  would  not  turn  at  once  to  Julia  after 
such  a  painful  and  unexpected  rupture  with  Delphium. 
He  would  be  wise,  therefore,  to  press  his  own  suit 
while  he  could  be  sure  that  the  one  rival  he  feared 
would  not  be  in  his  way.  Passion  does  not  thrive  upon 
neglect.  More  than  once,  accordingly,  did  he  seek 
Julia  at  this  time,  and  with  all  the  craft  and  subtlety 
that  was  in  him  he  strove  to  deepen  her  interest  and  re 
gard. 

His  reasoning  was  both  right  and  wrong.  Marcus 
was  altogether  too  self-respecting  to  kindle  one  pas 
sion  upon  the  ashes  of  another.  He  felt  battered  and 
bruised  by  what  he  had  been  through.  The  feeling 
that  had  deepened  and  deepened  in  him  till  it  had  quite 
unexpectedly  flooded  his  heart  had  just  as  unexpectedly 


298          THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

become  like  a  turbid  spring.  So  he  looked  now  upon 
passion  with  mistrust.  He  must  not  again  let  it  rule 
and  possess  him.  It  only  blinded  the  eyes. 

His  own  heart  would  have  taught  him  better  could 
he  have  read  it  aright.  His  regard  for  Naarah  had 
been  an  elevating  one.  It  had  given  him  help  and 
guidance  when  the  revelation  of  Delphium's  true  char 
acter  had  shocked  and  bewildered  him.  But  the  vision 
that  had  strengthened  him  faded  when  the  crisis  was 
past.  So  entirely  had  he  turned  from  the  idea  of  seek 
ing  and  knowing  Naarah  that  she  no  longer  haunted 
his  thoughts.  Even  the  superstitious  feeling  that  Fate 
would  again  bring  him  face  to  face  with  her  had  almost 
wholly  died.  Plainly  she  was  not  for  him.  He  would 
think  no  more  of  her. 

But  he  did  think  of  Julia.  It  was  here  that  Cethe- 
gus  made  his  mistake.  Marcus'  reflection  was  indeed 
sober.  It  was  hardly  tinged  with  sentiment.  Deep 
emotion  must  come  later.  But  more  and  more  did  the 
image  of  the  beautiful  daughter  of  Veltrius  come  to 
his  mind.  Her  faults  were  not  forgotten.  She  would 
not  easily  become  the  charming  and  delightful  comrade 
he  had  found  in  Delphium.  But  she  had  the  dignity, 
the  ambition  and  the  pride  that  had  marked  the  grand 
and  stately  Roman  matrons  like  the  wife  of  Brutus 
and  the  mother  of  Coriolanus.  Well  was  she  fitted  to 
stand  at  his  side  and  help  him  to  win  the  best  things 
Rome  had  to  give. 

Not  that  Marcus,  a  youth  of  twenty-one  and  a  hot- 
blooded  one,  could  carry  to  this  brilliant  and  fasci 
nating  woman  the  temper  of  an  anchorite.  If  passion 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         299 

did  not  now  surge  in  his  heart,  it  was  sure  to  be  kin 
dled  there  when  he  sought  Julia's  society.  But  he  had 
not  thought  of  seeking  it  at  present,  nor  was  it  all  in 
a  day  that  he  learned  to  see  clearly  what  he  was  going 
to  do.  It  was  little  by  little  that  the  thought  of  Del- 
phium  ceased  to  haunt  and  trouble  him,  and  little  by 
little  that  his  regard  for  Julia  awakened  the  longing 
for  their  old-time  intercourse. 

He  had  indeed  little  time  to  brood  over  the  past  or 
to  form  plans  for  the  future.  Acting  upon  the  resolve 
he  had  expressed  to  Cethegus,  he  took  a  post  under  his 
father  and  gave  all  his  energy  to  the  discharge  of  its 
duties.  Rome  was  not  easily  kept  in  order.  Its  aris 
tocracy  was  self-indulgent  and  its  swarming  proletariat 
lived  on  the  bread  of  idleness  and  rioted  in  unclean 
pleasures.  The  haunts  of  infamy  were  numberless. 
Vice  was  not  abashed  by  the  daylight  and  in  the  dark 
ness  it  knew  no  restraints.  And  as  vice  is  ever  the 
father  of  crime,  wantonness  grew  defiant  of  the  law. 
How  many  foul  deeds  were  done  in  those  degenerate 
days  the  world  will  never  know.  Petty  crimes  easily 
passed  unnoticed;  grave  ones  were  not  always  rebuked. 
When  vast  crowds  ow'ned  little  or  nothing,  what  mat 
ter  was  it  if  one  of  them  lost  his  all?  And  when  the 
city  teemed  with  idlers,  who  cared  if  one  of  them  fell 
in  a  drunken  brawl?  The  air  of  the  sty  is  not  foul 
to  those  who  live  in  it.  Rome  was  too  corrupt  to 
purify  itself.  There  was  no  moral  sentiment  to  be 
shocked  into  indignant  action.  Evil  could  be  re 
strained.  It  could  not  be  cured. 

How  great  a  burden  this  condition  of  affairs  im- 


3oo         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

posed  upon  the  Prefect  of  the  city  has  already  been 
pointed  out.  He  was  the  one  fount  of  order.  His 
authority  was  practically  unlimited.  Through  officers 
and  soldiers  specially  assigned  to  the  task  he  could 
watch  for  outbreaks,  suppress  riots,  and  hold  crime  in 
check.  But  this  could  only  be  done  by  constant  watch 
fulness.  Agrippa  was  vigilant  himself;  he  had  faith 
ful  and  efficient  helpers.  Yet  the  kind  of  activity 
needed  called  for  more  than  the  stern  Roman  sense  of 
duty.  Moral  alertness  is  not  the  offspring  of  disci 
pline.  It  is  the  creation  of  character,  not  of  rule  and 
law.  Agrippa  wanted  men  like  himself  to  detect  and 
bridle  the  vice  of  the  city.  He  rarely  found  them; 
he  welcomed  the  assistance  of  Marcus.  To  him  he 
had  often  pointed  out  the  need  of  knowledge  to  defeat 
evil  doers.  Their  practices  and  their  plans  must  be 
known  if  their  schemes  are  to  be  foiled.  And  as  they 
were  unceasing  in  their  activity,  those  who  opposed 
them  had  to  be  tireless.  The  man  who  had  no  hatred 
of  crime  but  thwarted  it  as  a  duty  easily  became  heed 
less  of  its  machinations  and  callous  to  its  horrors.  Nor 
could  even  a  man  of  deep  moral  feeling  long  watch 
the  shamelessness  of  a  great  and  corrupt  city  without 
a  growing  sense  of  powerlessness.  When  vice  is  an 
army,  virtue  wants  recruits.  But  at  least  Marcus 
could  for  a  time  track  infamy  to  its  dens  and  make  war 
upon  them.  He  had  not  grown  tolerant  of  wickedness 
because  he  had  seen  it  flaunting  in  many  guises. 

Neither,  on  the  other  hand,  was  he  ready  to  make 
the  acquaintance  he  had  been  gaining,  with  shady  re 
sorts  the  means  of  their  immediate  undoing.  Many 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         301 

of  those  who  frequented  such  places  knew  him. 
Though  he  had  not  shared  or  encouraged  their  vicious 
pleasures,  he  had  met  them  in  no  spirit  of  unfriendli 
ness.  He  could  not  now  suddenly  turn  against  them. 
Decency  required  that  he  should  keep  away  from  them 
for  a  time.  But  numberless  were  the  quarters  that 
called  for  close  inspection,  numberless  was  the  riotous 
crew  that  needed  to  be  kept  within  bounds,  numberless 
were  the  plots  that  could  only  be  foiled  by  unceasing 
wariness.  Day  after  day  Marcus  made  the  rounds  of 
the  city  and  nearly  every  day  he  gathered  information 
that  contributed  to  better  order.  This  street  was 
growing  to  be  a  center  for  drunken  brawls.  A  plot 
to  murder  a  wealthy  miser  was  hatching  in  a  notori 
ously  evil  district.  Here  a  centurion  and  the  men  un 
der  him  were  lax  and  careless.  There  the  guardians 
of  order  were  in  alliance  with  thieves  and  pickpockets. 
And  the  shops  of  an  alley  on  the  Esquiline  had  been 
raided  while  no  one  offered  to  interfere. 

So  passed  the  days.  In  use  and  service,  Marcus 
was  finding  a  satisfaction  which  the  pleasures  of  idle 
ness  had  never  given  him.  He  recovered  the  firm 
temper  and  the  confidence  in  himself  that  had  been 
shaken  by  the  awakening  to  Delphium's  real  character. 
The  native  buoyancy  of  his  spirit  asserted  itself. 
Hope  and  visions  of  large  enterprise  were  fed  by  actual 
achievement.  His  field  of  labor  was  not  vast  or  su 
premely  important,  but  his  work  engrossed  him  and  he 
knew  from  his  father's  approval  that  he  did  it  well. 
So  the  castles  he  began  to  build  towered  higher.  He 
wondered  if  he  had  it  in  him  to  do  what  his  friends 


302         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

expected  of  him.  He  wondered  if  some  day  he  should 
stand  at  an  emperor's  side,  hold  up  his  hands,  direct 
his  armies  and  sway  his  counsels.  And  as  his  skies 
grew  brighter  and  his  horizons  wider,  his  thoughts 
turned  more  and  more  to  Julia.  He  associated  her 
with  all  the  larger  things  he  hoped  to  do,  for  he  could 
not  forget  that  she  more  than  anyone  else  had  declared 
him  equal  to  great  achievement  and  had  tried  to  rouse 
his  ambition.  Naturally  therefore  he  began  to  feel 
an  inclination  to  seek  her,  which,  immediately  after 
the  glimpse  he  had  had  of  Naarah  in  the  arena,  he 
would  have  declared  impossible. 

More  than  a  month  had  passed  since  the  fateful 
interview  with  Delphium.  It  was  a  warm  and  sunny 
November  afternoon.  Marcus  had  been  inspecting 
the  heights  and  the  surroundings  of  Janiculum  to  see 
how  order  was  maintained  there  and  was  retracing  his 
steps  toward  the  Tiber.  His  pace  was  slow.  His  mind 
was  occupied.  It  was  not  what  he  had  just  seen,  how 
ever,  that  engrossed  him.  Nothing  notable  had  met 
his  eye  as  he  made  his  rounds  and  the  thought  that 
possessed  his  mind  had  no  connection  with  his  duties. 
The  task  he  had  set  himself  for  the  day  was  done  and 
he  was  questioning  whether  he  should  visit  Julia.  As 
he  was  not  given  to  indecision,  it  may  be  wondered 
why  he  was  questioning  instead  of  acting;  but  the  truth 
was,  the  thought  of  Delphium  had  intruded  upon  and 
well-nigh  destroyed  a  half-formed  resolve.  What  did 
it  mean  to  go  to  Julia?  Surely,  not  to  declare  senti 
ment.  He  had  none  to  declare.  His  feelings,  so  he 
assured  himself,  were  purely  those  of  friendship.  At 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         303 

the  same  time  he  could  not  help  dwelling  upon  Julia's 
brilliancy  and  forcefulness,  her  personal  charm,  her 
wit,  her  intense  Roman  pride,  and  her  eagerness  to 
kindle  in  himself  an  ardent  patriotism.  Would  not 
this  potent  alluring  personality  cast  its  spell  upon  him 
and  inevitably  make  friendship  ripen  into  a  deeper  re 
gard?  The  very  thought  that  this  might  be  was 
enough  to  cause  a  feeling  of  repulsion  to  arise  in  him. 
But  one  moon  had  waned  since  he  had  gone  to  another 
woman  and  uttered  words  of  tenderness  and  passion. 
Could  he  after  so  short  an  interval  seek  a  presence 
that  any  ardent  Roman  youth  was  sure  to  find  almost 
irresistibly  appealing?  No,  it  hardly  seemed  in  keep 
ing  with  perfect  integrity  to  do  so.  He  must  wait  till 
the  shadow  which  his  unhappy  experience  with  Del- 
phium  had  cast  over  him  was  completely  lifted. 

While  his  mind  was  thus  working  he  drew  near  the 
ancient  Pons  Sublicius  which  Horatius  and  his  two  help 
ers  had  so  gallantly  defended  against  the  Tuscan  horde. 
Glancing  toward  it,  he  saw  that  which  fixed  his  atten 
tion.  Across  it  was  coming  a  lectica,  borne  in  accord 
ance  with  the  prevailing  custom  by  four  stalwart 
Phrygians  dressed  in  red.  On  the  instant,  Marcus 
was  sure  that  he  recognized  it.  The  trim  clean  garb 
and  dignified  carriage  of  its  bearers,  the  richness  of 
its  mountings,  and  its  costly  frame  of  inlaid  wood,  all 
suggested  an  elegance  that  peculiarly  characterized  the 
equipage  of  the  daughter  of  Veltrius.  As  it  ap 
proached  the  Janiculum  side  of  the  river,  Marcus  saw 
unmistakably  that  it  was  Julia's,  and  at  once  his  scruples 
vanished.  The  mild  vein  of  superstition  in  him,  which 


3o4         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

had  for  a  time  made  him  believe  that  his  recognition 
of  Naarah  in  the  arena  was  ordered  by  some  supra 
human  agency,  now  again  manifested  itself.  This 
meeting  was  not  a  mere  chance.  Julia  had  somehow 
been  sent  across  his  path.  His  way  was  clear. 

Instantly  his  pace  quickened.  As  he  drew  near  the 
lectica  he  signaled  to  its  carriers  to  stop.  They  knew 
him  and  stood  still.  The  day  was  so  mild  and  the  busy 
streets  so  attractive  that  Julia  had  drawn  back  her 
curtains  and  was  enjoying  the  mellow  sunshine.  Be 
fore  she  had  time  to  wonder  why  her  carriage  had  sud 
denly  come  to  a  standstill,  she  was  gazing  into  the  face 
of  Marcus.  Her  surprise  was  at  once  succeeded  by 
indignation.  This  man  had  neglected  her  and 
wounded  her  pride.  Thus  to  dictate  to  her  slaves  and 
accost  her  on  the  street  was  not  to  be  borne.  She 
would  repulse  him  rudely  and  bid  her  carriers  go  on. 

Yet  the  words  she  began  to  frame  were  not  spoken. 
As  she  looked  into  the  eyes  of  Marcus  her  anger  passed 
quickly  away.  His  expression  was  one  of  command, 
yet  there  was  gentleness,  respect,  and  entreaty  in  it 
also.  Her  quick  intuition  told  her  that  his  mood  was 
one  which  he  had  never  shown  to  her  before.  It 
seemed  to  reach  and  possess  her  and  make  resentment 
impossible.  She  was  therefore  not  unprepared  for  the 
gentle  and  appealing  tones  in  which  he  addressed  her. 
Gentle  and  appealing  they  were,  and  yet  there  was  in 
them  a  quiet  force  that  could  not  well  be  gainsaid. 

"What  a  fortunate  meeting!"  he  said.  "  Pray 
leave  your  lectica  and  walk  with  me  by  the  river  side ! 
I  have  things  to  say  to  you." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         305 

His  smile  was  so  winning  that  Julia  smiled  too  as 
she  replied, 

"  A  Roman  woman  leave  her  lectka  and  walk  away 
with  the  man  who  dared  to  stop  it?  Would  Horatius 
ever  have  defended  this  bridge  if  he  had  foreseen 
such  things?  " 

"  This  isn't  the  Rome  of  Horatius  or  of  stupid  old 
Cato  who  despised  all  women.  So  come  with  me!  " 

With  that,  Marcus  bade  the  bearers  lower  the  lectka 
from  their  shoulders.  Julia  did  not  resist.  He  helped 
her  to  alight;  she  directed  the  Phrygians  to  await  her 
there  and  went  with  Marcus  along  a  rude  path  that 
skirted  the  river's  edge.  Following  the  current  of  the 
stream,  they  came  presently  to  a  small  solidly  built 
pier  around  which  ran  a  parapet  of  stone.  On  this 
they  leaned  and  gazed  upon  the  sluggish  tide  of  the 
tawny  stream.  Neither  spoke  for  a  time.  It  was 
Julia  who  first  broke  the  silence, 

"  You  are  very  uncommunicative,  Marcus,  for  a  man 
who  has  c  things  to  say.'  ' 

"  I  was  wondering  how  to  say  them;  nor  was  I  in 
haste  about  it,  for  I  find  it  pleasant  to  be  with  you." 

u  Perhaps  the  pleasure  was  greater  because  it  was 
so  unaccustomed." 

There  was  a  sting  in  the  words,  but  the  tone  was 
playful  and  Julia  looked  at  Marcus  with  an  arch  smile 
as  she  spoke.  Sadly  as  she  had  been  neglected,  her 
spirit  was  not  bitter.  She  was  still  touched  by  the 
kindliness  and  the  deep  respect  that  showed  in  Marcus' 
voice  and  manner.  He  met  her  look,  smiled  also,  and 
then  his  face  grew  grave  as  he  gazed  again  upon  the 


3o6         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

river. 

"  Your  words,"  he  said,  "  invite  me  to  explain. 
That  I  was  bringing  myself  to  do,  and  yet  I  think  I 
will  not  do  it.  Since  we  last  met,  I  have  had  much 
to  harass  and  perplex  me  —  the  duel  with  Styrax,  other 
things.  Why  dwell  upon  them?  They  are  all  past. 
They  have  made  me  value  more  than  ever  our  friend 
ship  of  former  days.  They  have  made  me  turn  to 
you  in  my  thought  with  a  deep  appreciation  of  the 
pleasantness  of  our  intercourse.  So  you  see  they  have 
had  their  use  even  though  they  have  kept  me  away 
from  you.  Let  us  think  of  them  as  buried!  " 

;t  I  hardy  need  to  answer  you,  Marcus,"  said  Julia 
very  gently.  '  You  know  well  that  I  should  shrink 
from  hearing  anything  you  did  not  wish  to  tell  me.  I 
am  as  ready  to  bury  the  past  as  you  are." 

'  Yes,  let  us  bury  deep  the  things  that  have  been 
and  forget  them !  Let  us  think  of  the  things  that  are 
to  be !  How  noble  and  stately  Rome  looks  in  the 
warm  bright  sunshine !  A  different  Rome  it  is  from 
that  which  Horatius  saw  when  he  stood  on  the  bridge 
yonder  to  defend  it.  It  has  had  a  good  five  hundred 
years  to  grow  in.  Those  gorgeous  palaces  upon  the 
Palatine  were  not  there  then.  Jupiter  had  no  such 
splendid  home  upon  the  Capitol  in  those  early  days. 
And  yet,  perhaps  it  was  a  better  Rome  then  than  now. 
Then  homes  were  pure,  youth  was  unsoiled  and  every 
man  ha"d  no  higher  ambition  than  to  die  for  his  country. 
But  alas!  what  shall  save  us  from  the  shame  and  the 
abominations  of  this  present  time?" 

"You,  Marcus.     Have  I  not  always  said  so?" 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         307 

"  Yes,  but  you  must  not  say  it,  must  not  think  it. 
What  can  I  do,  what  can  any  man  do  to  stem  the  evil 
currents  of  the  day?  Could  I  dam  that  rushing  river 
with  these  hands  of  mine?  " 

As  he  spoke,  Marcus  picked  up  a  fragment  of  wood 
that  was  lying  at  his  feet  and  threw  it  into  the  stream. 
This  way  and  that  way  it  was  borne  by  the  eddying 
waters  and  soon  carried  out  of  sight.  Both  watched 
it  in  silence  till  it  disappeared.  It  seemed  like  an 
object  lesson  that  pointed  the  truth  of  what  Marcus 
had  said.  Then  Julia  spoke  slowly  and  thoughtfully. 

"  The  river  is  mighty.  It  will  sweep  away  all  the 
chips  that  are  carelessly  thrown  into  it.  It  does  not 
carry  away  the  Pons  Sublicius.  It  would  not  bear 
away  a  dam  that  was  built  by  an  engineer  after  some 
wise  and  skillful  plan.  Be  the  engineer,  Marcus ! 
Plan  wisely,  bravely,  grandly !  Get  the  strong  men 
of  the  state  to  help  you !  With  them  you  can  stay 
these  vicious  tides  that  are  beating  at  the  foundations 
of  our  great  imperial  city." 

'  You  do  not  know  how  fierce  and  tremendous  the 
tides  are.  I  am  not  an  idler  now.  I  have  a  post  un 
der  my  father.  I  am  inspecting  and  studying  the  city 
that  I  may  help  to  keep  its  evil-doers  in  check.  It  is 
an  absorbing  task.  It  is  a  discouraging  one.  The 
flood  of  wickedness  is  like  an  engulfing  sea." 

'  Yet  you  do  not  give  up  ?  You  see  things  to  do 
and  do  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed !  Much  is  done  and  I  do  not  under 
value  it.  Without  it  hardly  a  home  in  the  city  would 
be  safe.  The  battle  can  never  be  fully  won,  but  it 


3o8         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

must  go  on.  Do  not  think  I  would  give  up  because  I 
show  you  the  dark  side !  I  only  want  you  to  see  that 
you  must  not  expect  too  much  of  me  or  of  any  man. 
This  Empire  is  vast.  It  is  a  mighty  task  to  keep  it 
orderly  and  decent.  We  can  not  restore  the  old  sim 
ple  virtuous  days." 

"  Not  any  more  than  we  can  make  a  soldier  on  the 
battlefield  into  a  babe  slumbering  in  its  cradle.  We 
should  not  wish  to  do  so.  Rome  is  great  and  glorious. 
I  think  you  make  it  out  more  evil  than  it  is.  Was  it 
ever  better  ruled  than  under  Augustus?  Yet  he  died 
but  little  more  than  ten  years  ago.  I  believe  it  is 
going  to  be  grander  and  mightier  than  ever.  It 
needed  emperors  to  rule  it.  It  has  them,  and  beneath 
their  sway  it  will  gain  new  power  and  dominion  till  it 
governs  the  whole  world.  And  it  is  men  like  you, 
Marcus,  that  are  to  make  it  grow.  Don't  shrink  from 
your  task!  Face  it  like  the  man  you  are!  " 

"  '  Varus,  give  me  back  my  legions !  '  You  know 
how  that  strange  victory  of  the  Germans  cut  Augustus 
to  the  heart.  Other  foes  as  fierce  will  assail  us.  If 
the  Empire  gets  too  big  it  will  tumble  to  pieces.  But 
do  not  set  me  down  as  faint-hearted  because  I  see  dan 
gers  at  our  firesides  and  on  our  borders !  I  am  not 
shrinking  from  my  task.  I  am  doing  it  every  day  with 
all  my  heart.  Whether  it  is  big  or  little,  I  shall  do  it 
till  I  die.  But  I  shall  need  help,  counsel,  sympathy, 
to  do  it  well.  I  shall  need  the  help  that  a  man  can 
only  get  from  the  woman  who  shares  all  with  him  and 
guards  his  hearth-fire;  and  when  the  need  comes  I 
shall  know  where  to  turn." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         309 

Marcus  looked  meaningly  at  Julia.  She  flushed, 
but  cast  her  eyes  downward  and  did  not  speak.  In 
stinctively  they  turned  together  from  the  pier  and 
walked  slowly  toward  the  bridge.  There  was  silence 
between  them  for  a  while.  As  they  came  in  sight  of 
the  red-clad  Phrygians,  Marcus  made  the  mischievous 
query, 

"  What  would  Cato  have  said  of  that  lectica  of 
yours,  Julia?  " 

"  The  same  that  he  said  of  Carthage,"  was  the  quick 
reply.  "Let  it  be  destroyed  this  very  day!" 

They  both  laughed.  Julia  took  her  place  among 
her  cushions  and  her  bearers  started  on  their  homeward 
way.  Marcus  stood  still  and  watched  them  till  they 
were  out  of  sight. 


XXIX 

THREE  days  after  Marcus  had  met  Julia  by 
the  Tiber  Lucius  Agrippa  was  interrupted 
by  his  guard  as  he  was  working  busily  in  his 
official  room.  It  was  evening.  He  was  in  the  midst 
of  an  absorbing  task.  So  loth  was  he  to  set  it  aside 
even  for  a  moment  that  he  was  inclined  to  disregard 
the  knock  at  his  door.  But  Gnatho,  the  veteran  who 
guarded  it,  was  intelligent  and  trustworthy.  It  might 
be  a  matter  of  importance.  So  he  gave  the  signal  of 
admission  and  Gnatho  entered.  That  he  was  no  tyro 
his  appearance  gave  unmistakable  evidence.  He  had 
served  under  Agrippa  in  Greece  and  Syria,  and  his 
rugged,  weather-beaten  face  showed  the  scars  of  con 
flict.  Saluting,  he  said  with  a  soldier's  brevity  that  he 
had  admitted  an  old  man  into  the  house  who  demanded 
instant  audience. 

"  Why  did  you  admit  him,  Gnatho?  The  morning 
is  the  time  to  seek  me.  I  can  not  be  annoyed  with 
petty  complaints  after  my  evening  labors  are  begun." 
"  I  knew  what  your  rule  is,  but  you  give  me  discre 
tion  and  I  could  not  resist  this  man's  pressing  entreat 
ies.  He  even  commanded  rather  than  entreated.  He 
has  an  air  of  authority  about  him." 

'  Well,  I  can  but  hear  him  now  he  is  in  the  house. 
Show  him  in!  " 

310 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         311 

Gnatho  withdrew  and  a  moment  later  ushered  the 
importunate  visitor  into  Agrippa's  presence,  remaining 
himself  as  was  his  custom  unless  he  received  a  signal 
to  withdraw.  Agrippa  found  himself  face  to  face  with 
an  old  man  whose  hair  and  long  flowing  beard  were 
white,  but  whose  figure  was  erect  and  whose  eye  was 
keen  and  bright.  He  was  much  above  the  average 
height  and  his  manner  was  as  dignified  and  stately  as 
an  intense  and  uncontrollable  excitement  allowed. 
The  Prefect  had  indeed  little  time  to  form  impressions, 
for  the  old  man  advanced  quickly  the  moment  he  en 
tered  the  room  and  exclaimed, 

"  Lucius  Agrippa,  do  you  know  me?  " 

"  No.  And  yet  I  ought  to  know  you,  too.  ...  I 
have  seen  you  somewhere.  .  .  .  What?  .  .  .  Can 
it  be  possible?  You  are  not  Eliud  Merari?  " 

"  I  am  Eliud  Merari." 

Agrippa  started  to  his  feet  and  eagerly  seized  the 
old  man's  hand.  He  held  it  long  in  his  own  firm  clasp, 
and  his  whole  face  lighted  up  with  pleasure  as  his  eyes 
met  the  intense  and  troubled  gaze  of  his  visitor. 

"  I  am  more  glad  than  I  can  tell  to  see  you,"  he  re 
sumed,  "  but  where  do  you  live  and  how  came  you 
here?  You  are  anxious  and  perturbed.  Almost  do 
I  hope  you  are  in  trouble,  if  the  trouble  is  not  serious; 
for  nothing  could  give  me  so  much  happiness  as  to  re 
pay  the  debt  of  gratitude  I  owe  you." 

Merari  was  overcome  with  emotion.  He  staggered 
back,  sank  into  a  chair  and  exclaimed  in  a  choking  voice, 

*  Trouble?  God  of  my  fathers,  yes!  My  daugh 
ter!  My  daughter!  —  but  give  me  water.  I  am  too 


3i2         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

weak  and  faint  to  speak." 

Gnatho  was  hurrying  away  in  response  to  the  re 
quest,  but  Agrippa  stayed  him  by  a  motion  of  his  hand, 
went  himself  to  a  cabinet  in  the  wall  and  produced  from 
it  a  small  earthen  jar  of  wine  and  a  cup  of  bronze. 
Pouring  out  a  generous  potion,  he  handed  it  to  Merari, 
who  took  it  without  speaking,  drained  it  slowly  and 
then  said, 

"  Pardon  an  old  man !  I  have  been  discourteous, 
for  my  grief  has  undone  me  and  I  am  thinking  only 
of  myself  and  my  sorrow.  You  are  most  kind  and 
generous.  I  thought  you  would  be  so,  but  I  was  not 
quite  sure ;  for  you  Romans  are  very  proud  and  you 
and  I  have  not  met  for  thirty  years.  Forgive  the 
doubt  and  accept  my  heartfelt  thanks  for  your  cour 
tesy  and  your  ready  sympathy;  and  oh,  accept  all  I 
have,  all  the  treasure  I  have  gathered  in  a  long  and 
busy  life,  but  give  me  back  my  daughter!  I  implore 
you,  give  me  back  my  daughter!  " 

"  Your  daughter?     Is  she  your  only  child?  " 
"  She  is  not  really  my  daughter.     She  is  my  grand 
daughter,  my  beloved  Naarah,  the  only  child  of  my 
son  Daniel  who  died  many  years  ago." 

;<  What  has  happened?     How  have  you  lost  her?  " 
"  She  was  taken  from  me  by  violence  yesterday." 
u  By   violence?     Here    in   Rome?     How   strange! 
Tell  me  the  story!" 

"  It  is  not  a  long  one.  My  child,  my  granddaugh 
ter,  is  now  nineteen  and  of  late  has  shown  an  earnest 
desire  to  see  this  great  city  and  its  doings.  I  have 
indulged  her.  I  have  taken  her  to  the  theater  and 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         313 

the  games,  and  I  have  walked  with  her  nearly  every 
day  to  show  her  the  Forum,  the  gardens,  the  temples 
and  all  that  is  splendid  and  magnificent  in  your  proud 
city  which  boasts  that  it  is  the  ruler  of  the  nations. 
Yesterday  we  walked  to  the  Campus  Martius  and,  re 
turning,  had  nearly  reached  our  home  on  the  eastern 
side  of  the  Esquiline  when  we  were  suddenly  seized, 
gagged  and  blindfolded  by  a  gang  of  ruffians  and  car 
ried    off.     I    was    released    only    half    an    hour    ago. 
Where  my  child  is  and  what  dreadful  things  she  may 
be  going  through,  I  do  not  know  and  dare  not  think." 
"  At  what  time  was  this?  " 
"  It  was  just  before  sundown." 
"  Just  where  was  it  that  you  were  seized?  " 
':  In  a  narrow  street  that  leads  out  of  the  Clivus 
Suburanus." 

'  Was  there  no  one  near  to  help  you?  " 
l(  If  any  were  at  hand  —  and  I  really  did  not  ob 
serve,  so  busy  was  I  in  explaining  an  old  Roman  myth 
to  my  daughter  —  they  were  too  few  to  render  assist 
ance.  Besides,  who  would  help  me,  an  alien,  in  this 
evil  city?" 

Agrippa  did  not  resent  this  censure  of  the  city  he 
was  trying  to  keep  in  order.  Merari's  grief  was  so 
deep  and  overpowering  that  his  own  sympathies  were 
deeply  roused. 

*  You  speak  in  bitterness,"  he  said,  "  but  I  can  not 
blame  you  for  thinking  ill  of  a  city  that  has  brought 
you  such  a  heavy  grief.  Rome  has  its  foul  and  shame 
ful  haunts,  though  your  Jerusalem  too,  no  doubt,  has 
its  plague  spots.  No  matter  about  that,  however. 


3i4         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

There  is  only  one  thing  that  concerns  us.  We  must 
find  your  granddaughter.  You  say  you  were  suddenly 
assailed.  How  many  of  the  ruffians  were  there?  " 

"  I  should  say  that  four  attacked  me  and  the  same 
number  seized  my  granddaughter." 

"  If  there  were  as  many  as  that,  the  object  doubtless 
was  to  overpower  you  instantly  and  prevent  you  from 
crying  out.  How  far  were  you  carried  and  where  do 
you  think  you  were  confined?  " 

"  They  put  me,  gagged  and  blindfolded  as  I  was, 
into  some  sort  of  a  lectica  and  drew  the  curtains  so  that 
my  condition  might  not  attract  notice;  then  they  car 
ried  me  through  the  streets  for  as  much  as  half  an 
hour.  But  whether  they  bore  me  to  a  distant  spot 
or  whether  they  made  frequent  turnings  and  finally 
brought  up  at  some  place  not  far  from  their  starting 
point,  I  can  not  say.  Nor  do  I  know  what  sort  of  a 
habitation  it  was  that  I  was  confined  in.  For  about 
twenty-four  hours  I  was  kept  in  an  ill-smelling  under 
ground  room,  in  utter  darkness  and  without  food. 
Then  I  was  blindfolded  again,  brought  outside,  and 
carried  through  the  streets  for  about  the  same  time 
as  before.  Finally  I  was  set  down  not  more  than  two 
hundred  paces  from  my  own  home,  with  my  hands  and 
arms  free.  But  before  I  could  tear  the  bandage  from 
my  eyes  my  captors  had  disappeared.  Seeing  that  I 
could  not  overtake  or  find  them,  I  rushed  eagerly  to 
my  own  house,  with  a  faint  hope  that  I  might  find 
Naarah,  my  child,  there.  But  my  house  was  a  casket 
without  its  precious  jewel." 

"  How  do  you  know  you  were  confined  but  twenty- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         315 

four  hours  if  you  were  in  total  darkness  all  the  time?  " 
"  I  have  lived  long.     I  have  ways  of  noting  how 
time  passes  even  when  I  can  not  see." 

"  Do  you  think  your  granddaughter  was  carried  to 
the  place  where  you  were  kept?  " 

"  I  have  no  idea.  I  have  no  means  of  judging  how 
far  or  whither  she  was  borne." 

"Why  do  you  suppose  you  were  released?" 
"  I  dare  not  say  all  the  awful  things  I  fear  and  imag 
ine.     It  would  seem  as   if  they  wanted  to  keep  me 
prisoner  just  long  enough  to  enable  them  to  carry  out 
some  dreadful  purpose  — " 

"  And  that  when  they  had  accomplished  it,  they 
were  willing  to  let  you  go?  Very  naturally  you  fear 
that;  but  courage,  my  friend,  courage!  There  is  good 
ground  for  hoping  that  their  purpose,  whatever  it  may 
be,  is  not  accomplished  yet.  They  set  you  free  because 
they  were  not  afraid  of  you.  They  thought  your 
story  would  go  unheeded  because  you  are  an  alien. 
They  will  find  how  greatly  they  were  mistaken.  One 
day  is  a  short  time  in  which  to  carry  out  an  evil  pur 
pose.  I  do  not  believe  anything  has  yet  been  done. 
Nothing  shall  be  done.  All  the  military  power  of 
Rome  shall  be  used  in  your  behalf  as  much  as  if  you 
were  the  Emperor  himself.  If  all  the  soldiers  and  all 
the  officers  in  the  city  have  to  join  in  hunting  for  your 
grandchild,  they  shall  do  so  and  she  shall  be  found. 
And  do  you  think  I  would  touch  a  feather's  weight  of 
your  gold  for  the  service?  No,  I  know  that  in  your 
heart  you  never  supposed  I  would,  and  that  your  prof 
fer  of  your  riches  spoke  only  of  your  despair.  Keep 


316         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

your  treasure,  my  friend!  No  greater  joy  could  have 
visited  me  than  this  opportunity  of  helping  the  man 
who  came  to  me  unsought  when  I  was  in  prison  and 
saved  me  from  humiliation  and  lasting  disgrace.  I 
would  spend  my  own  substance  to  the  last  denarius  if 
it  were  necessary  in  order  to  lift  you  out  of  your  trou 
bles.  So,  courage,  my  kind  old  benefactor!  Cour 
age  !  I  am  sure  all  will  yet  be  well." 

u  May  the  God  of  my  people  bless  you !  I  can  not 
say  more.  My  heart  is  too  full.  But  oh,  as  you  pity 
me,  act!  Act  at  once!  There  is  no  time  to  lose." 

"  True,  and  no  time  shall  be  lost.  Gnatho,  is  Mar 
cus  in  the  house?  " 

"  I  am  sure  that  he  is." 

"  Summon  him  at  once !     I  think  he  can  be  of  serv- 


ice." 


"  My  son  Marcus,"  Agrippa  went  on  as  Gnatho  hur 
ried  away,  "  has  an  acquaintance  with  the  low  haunts 
of  the  city  that  is  likely  to  be  useful  now.  Yet  do  not 
think  this  knowledge  of  his  is  due  to  evil  habits.  He 
is  wholly  free  from  vice.  But  some  of  his  boon  com 
panions  are  not  as  careful  of  themselves  as  they  should 
be,  and  with  them  he  has  made  his  way  into  many  of 
the  unclean  resorts  that  are  the  pest  of  the  city.  Being 
sure  that  I  could  trust  him,  I  have  been  willing  that 
he  should  do  this,  for  I  have  seen  that  his  experiences 
would  eventually  be  of  service  in  tracking  infamy  to 
its  dens.  And  I  am  sure  that  this  will  now  prove  to 
be  the  case.  But  tell  me,  how  long  have  you  been  liv 
ing  in  Rome?  " 

"  Four  years." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         317 

"  And  you  only  came  to  see  me  when  you  were  in 
trouble!  That  was  not  right.  Why  have  you  kept 
away  from  me  all  these  years?'1 

"  I  am  ashamed,  deeply  ashamed  that  I  did  so.  Yet 
I  had  a  reason.  You  Romans,  as  I  have  already  said, 
are  very  proud,  and,  alas!  I  have  not  always  met 
with  gratitude  in  my  dealings  with  men.  I  feared  to 
receive  coolness  and  condescension  from  you  instead  of 
warm  and  generous  feeling,  and  that  would  have  been 
a  bitter  disappointment.  How  groundless  my  fears 
were,  you  have  shown  me  to-night.  Again  I  say,  I 
am  ashamed." 

Marcus  entered  the  room  as  the  old  man  finished 
speaking.  Merari  gazed  at  him  with  curiosity; 
Agrippa  with  fatherly  pride.  Each  thought  that  the 
youth  presented  a  noble  picture  of  manly  beauty;  each 
unsconsciously  enhanced  the  picture  through  the  per 
vasive  and  revealing  law  of  contrast.  To  a  more  dis 
cerning  beholder  than  Gnatho,  impressive  would  have 
been  the  spectacle  of  the  three  generations  thus  for  the 
moment  brought  together. 

Age,  experience,  breadth  of  knowledge,  and  the 
power  that  comes  from  the  noble  use  of  a  strong  and 
noble  mind  spoke  from  Merari's  austere  but  pleasing 
and  attractive  countenance.  The  venerable  aspect  im 
parted  by  the  full  and  silvery  hair  and  beard  was  con 
firmed  by  the  deep  lines  that  marked  the  strongly 
molded  features.  But  the  lofty  brow,  the  keen  dark 
eye,  and  the  resolute  will  that  was  revealed  by  every 
look  and  motion  told  of  an  energy  that  had  not  been 
chilled  by  the  frosts  of  time.  And  yet  there  was  more 


3i8         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

in  the  face  than  the  energy  that  results  from  rectitude 
and  large  mentality.  Through  it  there  seemed  to  gaze 
a  soul  that  was  at  peace  with  itself  because  it  had 
higher  than  earthly  communings  and  assurances  of  its 
own  immortality.  Judaea,  with  its  spiritual  yearnings, 
its  sublime  visions,  and  its  triumphant  faith  in  the 
Everlasting,  had  given  its  own  character  to  the  old 
man's  sensitive  and  noble  face. 

Serenity  showed  likewise  in  the  finely  chiseled  fea 
tures  of  the  Roman  Prefect.  It  was  the  serenity  of  a 
mind  that  has  mastered  unruly  impulse  and,  having 
disciplined  itself  to  meet  every  experience  with  un 
shaken  fortitude,  can  even  face  the  likelihood  of  its 
own  extinction  without  a  tremor.  Agrippa  was  a 
Stoic  and  was  loyal  to  the  principles  which  even  then 
governed  the  School  and  made  uncomplaining  endur 
ance  the  loftiest  of  the  virtues.  All  his  life  he  had 
given  to  Duty  as  unquestioning  an  obedience  as  the 
well-trained  legionary  renders  to  his  centurion.  Influ 
enced,  though  not  dominated,  by  the  philosophy  of 
Lucretius,  he  had  no  sure  belief  that  life  outlasts  the 
mortal  body;  yet  more  than  once  he  had  confronted 
death  and  danger  with  absolute  unconcern.  He  was 
a  Roman;  if  Rome  needed  his  life  at  any  time,  it  must 
be  offered  up  as  readily  as  the  unthinking  child  sur 
renders  its  own  will  to  that  of  its  parent.  It  was 
Rome  therefore  that  gave  its  impress  to  the  Prefect's 
countenance  —  a  countenance  that  plainly  bespoke  res 
olution,  courage  and  tranquillity.  The  abundant  hair, 
tinged  with  gray  but  not  whitened;  the  unwrinkled 
brow;  the  clear  hazel  eye;  the  finely  cut  firm  mouth,  all 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         319 

bore  witness  to  a  vigor  that  was  unimpaired  by  years 
and  to  a  spirit  that  could  rule  others  because  it  was 
ruler  of  itself. 

And  Rome  spoke  too  from  the  frank  open  counte 
nance  of  Marcus,  which  glowed  with  energy  and  life. 
Here  too  was  a  face  that  seemed  but  the  fitting  cloth 
ing  of  a  fearless,  upright  and  unsullied  mind.  The 
high  and  noble  forehead,  the  dark  flashing  eye  with  its 
direct  unshrinking  gaze,  and  the  lips,  sensitive  but  with 
out  suggestion  of  weakness,  told  of  an  imperious  will 
that  swayed  others  because  no  vitiating  self-indulgence 
had  undermined  its  force.  Here  was  a  Roman  indeed, 
a  worthy  descendant  of  the  men  who  had  first  made  the 
city  of  Romulus  victorious  over  dangerous  rivals  by 
their  iron  strength  of  will.  Yet  something  more  than 
the  old,  intrepid  and  triumphant  Rome  seemed  to  find 
expression  in  the  youthful  face  that  was  so  full  of 
energy  and  hope.  Here  was  manifest  the  spirit  of 
the  ne\v  Rome  that  was  already  listening  to  prophetic 
voices  and  catching  fleeting  visions  of  a  more  than 
earthly  grandeur;  the  Rome  that  was  to  outlive  the 
shamelessness  of  its  degenerate  sons  and  become  the 
center  of  a  far-reaching  spiritual  dominion;  the  Rome 
that  found  its  seer  and  interpreter  in  Vergil,  whose 
pure  and  sensitive  soul  could  look  through  the  garment 
of  the  flesh  and  divine  the  nature  of  man's  eternal  des 
tiny. 

It  was  not  without  wonder  that  Merari  gazed  at 
Marcus  and  noted  the  frankness  of  his  bearing,  the 
evidences  of  health  and  spirit  that  were  given  by  every 
attitude  and  motion,  and  above  all  the  real  nobility  of 


320         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

the  face  which  seemed  a  convincing  proof  of  honor  and 
manly  integrity.  So  absorbed  was  the  old  man  in 
noting  and  studying  the  youth,  of  whom  he  felt  that  he 
had  formed  a  false  and  unworthy  estimate,  that  for  the 
moment  he  forgot  his  own  trouble  and  the  errand  on 
which  he  had  come.  It  was  Marcus'  voice  that  re 
called  him  to  himself. 

"  You  sent  for  me,  father,"  he  said  as  he  glanced 
questioningly  from  Agrippa  to  Merari.  "  What  do 
you  wish  of  me?  " 

"  First  of  all,  my  son,  I  wish  to  make  you  acquainted 
with  an  old  friend.  You  remember  that  I  told  you 
not  very  long  ago  how  I  should  have  suffered  impris 
onment  and  disgrace  but  for  the  unlocked  for  offices 
of  a  kindly  Hebrew  on  whom  I  had  no  claim  and  whom 
I  had  never  even  seen.  His  name  was  Eliud  Merari. 
He  is  before  you  and  he  is  in  great  trouble." 

Marcus'  face  lighted  up  with  pleasure.  He  has 
tened  to  the  old  man,  grasped  one  of  his  hands  in  both 
of  his  own  and  said  with  feeling, 

"  What?  You  who  saved  my  father's  honor  are  in 
need  of  help?  Pray  tell  me  how!  I  am  young  and 
strong.  I  would  give  my  life  to  serve  you  and  give  it 
gladly." 

Merari  had  too  disciplined  a  character  to  show  all 
he  felt,  but  he  was  deeply  affected.  For  a  moment  he 
looked  keenly  at  the  eager  face  that  was  gazing  anx 
iously  into  his  own  and  then  said, 

"  I  believe  you,  my  son,  and  I  humbly  confess  that 
in  my  thought  I  have  done  you  wrong.  I  have  warned 
my  granddaughter  Naarah  against  you,  but  I  believe 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         321 

you  are  good  and  true.  I  accept  your  service  gladly, 
and  oh!  "  he  added  while  his  voice  trembled  with  the 
emotion  he  could  no  longer  repress,  "  serve  me  with 
all  your  heart!  My  granddaughter!  Find  my  grand 
daughter,  my  Naarah!  She  has  been  stolen  from  me." 

u  Your  granddaughter?  "  exclaimed  Marcus  excit 
edly,  as  a  suspicion  that  was  still  more  a  hope  arose 
in  his  mind.  "Your  granddaughter?  Can  it  be?'7 
—  here  he  looked  at  his  father,  but  Agrippa  had  no 
conception  of  the  truth  and  could  throw  no  light,  for 
he  had  never  heard  the  story  of  the  beautiful  Hebrew 
girl.  So  Marcus  looked  again  to  Merari,  who  nodded 
and  said, 

"  It  is  even  as  you  fancy.  You  have  met  my  child, 
my  granddaughter.  It  was  she  who  spoke  to  you  in 
the  street  one  day  last  midsummer.  It  is  she  who  has 
been  taken  from  me  by  miscreants,  for  what  evil  pur 
pose  I  dare  not  think.  Find  her,  my  son!  Oh,  find 
her  and  give  her  back  to  me !  " 

The  old  man  held  out  his  arms  appealingly  and  the 
tears  gathered  in  his  eyes.  Astonished  at  this  new 
aspect  of  the  situation,  Agrippa  came  and  placed  him 
self  at  Merari's  side  with  a  questioning  look  at  Mar 
cus,  who  said  before  his  father  could  speak, 

'  You  see  there  was  more  in  my  mind  than  you  sup 
posed  that  morning  when  I  asked  you  about  the  He 
brews  and  you  told  me  how  this  generous  man  had 
come  to  your  assistance  when  you  were  sorely  in  need 
of  a  friend.  It  was  because  I  had  met  his  granddaugh 
ter,  though  I  had  of  course  no  idea  who  she  was,  that 
I  wanted  to  know  about  her  race  and  nation."  And 


322         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

very  briefly  Marcus  related  the  story  of  his  first  meet 
ing  with  Naarah.  That  he  had  seen  her  since  or  that 
he  had  cherished  a  feeling  of  sentiment  toward  her, 
he  did  not  think  it  wise  to  reveal. 

"How  strangely  it  has  all  come  about!"  said 
Agrippa  when  Marcus  had  finished.  "  But  more  than 
ever  do  I  believe  that  it  is  going  to  be  my  privilege  to 
requite  the  good  you  did  me  so  long  ago.  My  son 
will  find  your  daughter.  Do  not  fear!  He  will  find 
her,  I  am  sure,  before  the  night  has  passed." 

"  Find  her?"  cried  Marcus,  all  on  fire  with  impa 
tience.  "  Yes,  I  will  find  her.  I  will  not  rest  or  sleep 
till  I  give  her  back  to  you.  But  give  me  a  clew! 
Where  did  you  lose  her?  Where  did  it  happen? 
Who  did  it?  Tell  me  all!" 

The  story  was  soon  told.  Marcus'  face  grew  black 
as  he  listened. 

"  I  understand,"  he  said.  "  I  know  who  has  done 
this.  I  know  where  she  has  been  taken.  I  will  find 
her  and  save  her,  but  there  is  no  time  to  lose.  Gnatho, 
find  Hacho  and  bring  him  here  at  once." 

"  You  know  of  Euthro's  vile  resort,"  he  continued, 
turning  to  his  father.  "  It  is  there  that  she  will  be 
found.  My  old  comrades  who  go  much  to  Delphium's 
wine  room  have  mentioned  to  me  that  there  was  to  be 
a  special  and  very  entertaining  show  at  Euthro's  to 
night.  They  did  not  know  what  it  was  to  be,  but  they 
had  had  assurance  that  it  was  something  quite  unusual. 
They  told  me  this  in  the  hope  that  I  might  accompany 
them;  but  I  have  let  all  such  haunts  alone  since  I  be 
gan  my  work  — " 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         323 

"  You  alarm  me,"  interrupted  Merari.  "  You  fill 
my  soul  with  terror.  What  wickedness  is  on  foot? 
What  have  they  against  my  innocent  child,  and  why 
do  you  connect  her  with  that  unseemly  show  which 
your  friends  are  to  witness  to-night?  " 

But  this  was  a  question  that  Marcus  could  not  an 
swer  unreservedly.  He  saw  only  too  clearly  that 
Naarah's  disappearance  was  the  work  of  Delphium. 
He  knew  that  the  spectacle  his  friends  had  learned 
about  at  Delphium's  wine  room  must  be  a  part  of  Del- 
phium's  own  scheme  for  vengeance.  But  these  were 
matters  to  be  kept  from  the  knowledge  of  his  father 
and  of  Merari.  Nor  was  it  necessary  that  they  should 
be  thoroughly  informed.  The  evil  practices  of  a 
scoundrel  like  Euthro  were  easily  explained. 

"  If  you  knew  who  Euthro  was,"  answered  Marcus, 
"  you  would  be  at  no  loss  to  understand  why  your 
granddaughter  was  so  rudely  captured  and  why  you 
were  for  a  time  kept  in  confinement.  My  father  sees 
what  it  all  means  very  readily.  But  do  not  be  alarmed. 
The  purpose  of  the  scoundrels  is  no  good  one,  I  admit 
But  I  will  foil  it.  I  will  rescue  your  grandchild  if  I 
have  to  tear  down  every  brick  of  the  wretched  place 
to  which  they  have  taken  ber. 

"  Ah,  here  is  Hacho.  Follow  me,  Hacho,  and  do 
not  lose  sight  of  me.  I  am  going  to  Euthro's  on  the 
north  side  of  the  Caslian  and  I  am  going  to  run  as  I 
never  ran  before." 

"  Stay,  stay!  "  cried  Merari.  "  Take  me  with  you! 
You  must  not  leave  me  here  in  this  agony  of  fear. 
The  suspense  will  kill  me." 


324         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

u  You  must  wait.  You  would  only  hinder  us  and 
perhaps  spoil  everything  if  you  went  with  us.  Leave 
it  all  to  me.  I  will  send  Hacho  back  as  soon  as  I 
have  news.  But  it  will  be  good  news.  Never  fear. 
All  will  be  well." 

Thereupon  Marcus  and  Hacho  rushed  out  into  the 
night,  while  Merari  sank  back  into  a  chair  and  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands.  Agrippa  did  not  try  to  comfort 
him  farther.  He  saw  that  he  was  praying. 


XXX 

MARCUS  was  quite  correct  in  thinking  that  the 
seizure  and  imprisonment  of  Naarah  and  her 
grandfather  was  the  work  of  Delphium. 
Not  for  a  moment  had  the  foiled  and  infuriated 
woman  abandoned  her  vengeful  purpose.  Her  plans 
were  carefully  matured.  In  due  time  they  were  craft 
ily  yet  audaciously  carried  out.  To  execute  them  she 
went  to  Euthro,  recking  not  of  reputation  now  that  the 
end  for  which  she  had  so  zealously  guarded  it  was  for 
ever  lost.  To  Euthro  she  represented  herself  as  a 
woman  who  had  been  grievously  wronged  and  who  was 
thirsting  for  vengeance.  He  promised  to  aid  her,  and 
from  the  vicious  characters  who  came  to  his  resort  it 
was  easy  to  select  a  few  to  whom  it  seemed  only  an 
amusing  pastime  to  lay  violent  hands  on  an  old  man 
and  his  granddaughter.  The  identity  of  Naarah  Del 
phium  had  ascertained  by  finding  the  flower  girl  whom 
Marcus  had  alarmed  and  Naarah  had,  rather  need 
lessly  as  she  herself  afterwards  realized,  attempted  to 
assist.  Naarah  herself  and  her  residence  being  known, 
it  was  a  simple  matter  to  become  acquainted  with  her 
habits  and  to  seize  and  carry  off  her  grandfather  and 
herself.  And  to  ensure  success  after  the  seizure  was 
accomplished,  Delphium  persuaded  Euthro  to  show  her 
wrhatever  was  cryptic  or  labyrinthine  in  his  peculiarly 

325 


326         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

constructed  establishment.  With  the  knowledge  of 
rooms,  passages  and  secret  stairways  thus  acquired,  she 
counted  confidently  on  bringing  her  plot  to  a  triumph 
ant  issue. 

True,  Euthro  had  not  unhesitatingly  lent  himself 
and  his  establishment  to  the  perpetration  of  her  scheme. 
He  was  a  cowardly  knave  and  he  saw  hazard  in  it. 
His  roof  often  sheltered  criminals;  he  did  not  wittingly 
allow  it  to  shelter  crime.  If  he  had  realized  that  this 
lawless  undertaking  was  really  projected  in  order  to 
wound  the  son  of  the  City  Prefect,  he  would  have  had 
naught  to  do  with  it.  But  that  he  was  not  permitted 
to  understand,  and  for  more  reasons  than  one  he  was 
glad  to  gratify  Delphium.  She  began  negotiations  by 
appealing  to  his  cupidity.  He  had  always  liked  her; 
after  he  had  accepted  a  large  bribe  from  her  he  found 
her  most  ingratiating.  That  she  had  kept  away  from 
him  for  a  long  time  he  had  never  thought  of  laying 
up  against  her,  for  he  was  not  one  to  be  sought  by 
those  who  laid  claims  to  respectability.  Respectable 
he  believed  her  to  be  and  he  was  flattered  that  she  now 
came  to  him  in  an  extremity.  Her  very  condescension 
pleased  him;  and  so  artfully  did  she  manage  him  that 
she  finally  made  him  perfectly  pliant  to  her  will.  Ap 
prehensive  and  resisting  at  the  outset,  he  ended  by  feel 
ing  it  an  honor  that  his  resort  should  be  chosen  for 
the  consummation  of  her  plans. 

And  the  resort  was  certainly  well  adapted  to  the 
shameful  purpose.  Though  outwardly  decent,  it  gave 
evidence  that  vice  had  kept  pace  with  the  substantial 
growth  of  the  city.  For  it  was  a  large  three-storied 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         327 

building  of  brick,  and  its  two  upper  stones  were  well 
lighted,  with  the  exception  of  some  rooms  which  were 
purposely  made  dark.  The  first  story  was  partly  un 
derground  and  to  reach  it  it  was  necessary  to  pass  from 
the  street  down  several  stone  steps  that  led  to  an  arched 
passageway.  At  the  end  of  this  passageway  was  the 
double  doorway  which  formed  the  main  entrance  into 
the  building.  Most  of  the  space  on  this  floor  was 
given  up  to  a  low-ceilinged  hall  wherein  shows,  some 
times  decent  sometimes  ribald,  were  presented  both  in 
the  daytime  and  in  the  evening  hours.  Below  was  a 
subterranean  network  of  cellars,  labyrinthine  passages 
and  unlighted  rooms. 

It  was  in  one  of  these  cavernous  rooms  that  Merari 
was  confined,  after  he  and  Naarah  were  made  captives, 
and  dark,  damp  and  unwholesome  he  found  it. 
Naarah  was  placed  in  a  spacious  apartment  in  the  sec 
ond  story,  which  was  well  lighted,  though  the  windows 
were  so  high  from  the  floor  that  she  could  not  see 
through  them  and  gain  an  idea  of  her  whereabouts. 
This  was  the  first  thing  she  realized  when  she  was  left 
to  herself;  for  her  hands  were  free  and  at  once  she  tore 
away  the  bandage  that  blinded  her  eyes. 

It  was  a  dreary  place  that  she  found  herself  in  as 
she  looked  about  her.  Not  alone  the  height  of  the 
windows  from  the  floor,  but  the  whole  character  of  the 
apartment  and  of  its  furnishings  suggested  a  prison. 
The  floor  was  of  cement.  The  walls  were  brick.  A 
rude  mattress  was  the  only  furniture.  And  she  had 
heard  her  captors  lock  the  door  when  they  left  her. 
She  tried  it  in  order  to  make  sure,  but  it  was  fast. 


328          THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

Upon  the  mattress  Naarah  sank  in  utter  wretched 
ness,  wondering  why  such  an  unhappy  experience  had 
come  to  her,  and  grieving  much  over  her  grandfather, 
for  whom  her  fears  were  chiefly  excited.  She  could 
not  believe  that  anything  evil  was  planned  against  her 
self.  She  had  done  no  one  any  wrong.  She  was  sure 
she  had  not  an  enemy  in  the  world.  But  Merari  was 
rich.  This  must  be  a  scheme  to  rob  him;  and,  dis 
tressing  thought,  it  might  be  that  his  captors  would 
extort  money  from  him  by  threatening  that  they  would 
do  violence  to  her  if  he  did  not  meet  their  demands. 
Oh,  if  she  could  only  communicate  with  him  and  tell 
him  not  to  give  way !  She  feared  nothing.  She  had 
never  come  in  contact  with  evil  and  she  could  not  be 
lieve  that  there  were  persons  vile  enough  to  injure  her 
in  order  to  bring  him  to  terms.  But  he  would  fear 
that  they  would  do  her  harm,  and  that  would  make  him 
yielding.  So  she  would  be  released  after  a  while,  per 
haps,  to  find  that  the  fond  old  man,  who  cared  for  her 
as  if  she  were  his  own  child,  had  impoverished  himself 
unnecessarily  in  order  to  save  her  from  suffering. 

So  ran  her  thoughts.  In  picturing  her  grandfather's 
distress  of  mind  about  her  she  quite  forgot  herself  and 
her  surroundings  till  the  door  was  opened  by  a  large, 
coarse,  ill-clad  and  ill-kempt  woman,  who  placed  on 
the  floor  beside  her  a  piece  of  bread  and  a  large  cup  of 
red  wine. 

"  Eat  and  drink,"  she  said  and  turned  to  leave  the 
room.  But  Naarah  sprang  to  her  feet,  seized  the 
creature's  skirt  and  held  her  back  while  she  inquired, 

"Where  am  I?     Who  brought  me  here?     What 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         329 

do  they  want  of  me?  " 

The  woman  gave  her  an  evil  look,  burst  into  a  low 
savage  laugh  and  answered, 

"  You  will  find  out  before  you  are  many  days  older." 

Then  she  laughed  the  same  ugly  laugh  again,  rudely 
wrenched  herself  free  and  once  more  started  to  go 
away. 

"  Stay!  "  cried  Naarah.  "  I  am  rich.  I  will  give 
you  more  gold  than  you  have  ever  seen  in  your  life 
if  you  will  answer  all  my  questions  and  then  help  me 
to  get  away." 

At  the  word  gold  the  woman  cast  a  quick,  covetous 
glance  at  her  and  when  she  finished  said  in  a  hoarse 
whisper, 

"  Gold?  Where  is  it?  Give  it  to  me  and  perhaps 
I  will  do  something  for  you." 

u  I  have  none  here.  But  my  grandfather  is  rich. 
Help  me  and  I  will  give  you  enough  to  buy  everything 
you  wish,  enough  to  buy  this  house." 

u  Enough  to  buy  this  house !  Ha,  ha !  A  lovely 
thing  to  own  that  would  be.  But  you  are  trifling  with 
me.  How  do  I  know  your  grandfather  is  rich?  Who 
is  he?" 

"  He  is  Merari,  the  Hebrew.  All  the  Hebrews  in 
Rome  know  how  wealthy  he  is.  Ask  one  of  them." 

"  A  Hebrew !  Bah !  What  do  I  know  about  He 
brews?  You  are  trying  to  fool  me,  you  black-eyed 
maker  of  lies.  But  I  am  not  to  be  fooled.  I'm  not 
going  to  be  knocked  down  with  a  club  and  beaten  for 
letting  you  go  free,  just  to  find  you  have  made  prom 
ises  you  never  meant  to  keep  and  have  slipped  through 


330         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

my  fingers.  There's  your  food.  Eat  it,  and  I  wish 
you  joy  of  it.  If  you  had  any  gold  about  you,  per 
haps  I  could  tell  you  something  worth  knowing  about 
it  " —  here  she  eyed  Naarah  closely,  but,  seeing  no 
movement  to  produce  money,  she  went  on,  "  but  you 
have  nothing  to  give  but  promises.  So  eat  your  bread 
and  drink  your  wine,  and  much  good  may  you  get  from 
them!  Yes,  much  good  may  you  get  from  them!" 
she  repeated  with  a  wicked  leer  and  a  chuckle  that  had 
the  same  suggestion  of  mirth  as  the  crackling  of  newly 
kindled  flames. 

The  woman  went  out  and  Naarah  again  seated  her 
self  on  the  mattress,  now  thoroughly  alarmed.  The 
hardened  face  of  the  gross  creature,  her  malignant 
glances  and  the  dark  hints  conveyed  by  her  words,  all 
roused  apprehension.  Naarah  wondered  what  the 
place  she  was  in  could  be.  Her  visitor  had  laughed  at 
the  mention  of  buying  it.  And  was  it  safe  to  taste  the 
bread  and  the  wine?  Perhaps  they  were  drugged  or 
poisoned.  She  took  up  the  piece  of  bread,  which  was 
quite  large  enough  to  stay  the  appetite  of  a  hungry 
person,  and  examined  it  attentively.  She  could  see 
nothing  about  it  to  excite  suspicion;  still,  she  did  not 
dare  to  partake  of  it.  The  wine  also  she  subjected  to 
a  careful  scrutiny;  but  if  anything  foreign  and  danger 
ous  had  been  placed  in  it,  the  ruby  depths  of  the  liquid 
kept  the  secret  effectually  concealed.  She  dared  not 
drink  however;  nor  indeed  had  food  and  drink  any 
attractions  for  her.  She  was  too  wretched  in  mind  to 
feel  the  wants  of  the  body.  So  she  sat  wondering  and 
grieving  till  darkness  came  on.  Then  she  lay  down 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         331 

on  the  mattress,  which  had  to  serve  both  as  chair  and 
bed,  and  tried  to  sleep. 

She  was  not  very  successful,  though  the  mattress  was 
not  uncomfortable.  She  got  snatches  of  troubled  and 
unrefreshing  slumber;  but  all  through  the  night  she 
kept  waking  with  a  start,  and  to  wake  meant  a  renewal 
of  anxiety  and  fear.  Toward  morning  she  sank  into 
a  heavier  sleep  which  lasted  till  an  hour  or  more  after 
sunrise;  and  when  her  eyelids  finally  opened,  she  saw 
standing  before  her  the  same  blowsy,  repulsive  crea 
ture  who  had  visited  her  the  afternoon  previous. 

"  So  my  dainty  duckling  doesn't  like  its  food,"  the 
woman  began  when  she  saw  that  Naarah  was  fairly 
awake.  "  Perhaps  you  expected  to  be  fed  on  roasted 
peacock  and  fresh  turbot  and  honey.  And  perhaps 
you  think  the  wine  isn't  old  and  choice  enough  for  your 
delicate  taste.  A  Hebrew!  Humph!  I  suppose 
plain  Roman  fare  isn't  good  enough  for  Hebrews. 
Well,  we  will  see,  my  beauty.  Folks  that  won't  eat 
can  be  made  to  eat.  We  will  see.  Oh,  yes!  We 
will  see." 

This  said,  the  woman  turned  and  left  the  room. 
Naarah  made  no  effort  to  stay  her,  for  she  was  a  little 
dulled  by  her  heavy  sleep  and  she  realized  too  the  use- 
lessness  of  pleading  with  a  nature  so  hardened  and 
debased.  But  the  words  that  had  been  uttered  caused 
her  added  alarm.  They  were  plainly  threatening  and 
they  made  her  feel  more  than  ever  suspicious  of  the 
bread  and  the  wine.  She  was  now  fully  resolved  not 
to  taste  of  them,  though  the  gnawings  of  hunger  were 
making  themselves  strongly  felt. 


332         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

Her  suspicions  were  well  founded,  for  her  absti 
nence  was  a  bar  to  the  full  success  of  Delphium's 
scheme.  Diabolical  indeed  the  scheme  was  and  worthy 
of  the  Greek's  astute  and  evil  mind.  It  was  her  pur 
pose  to  drug  Naarah  and  then  have  her  exhibited  and 
rudely  handled  before  an  evening  audience  in  which 
were  some  of  Marcus'  intimate  friends.  The  pres 
ence  of  Marcus  himself  she  did  not  wish  and  did  not 
count  upon.  She  knew  that  his  new  life  kept  him  busy 
and  that  he  no  longer  frequented  his  old  haunts.  Not 
even  a  special  message  or  invitation  would  be  likely 
to  bring  him  to  Euthro's  at  a  given  time.  But  if  a 
beautiful  girl,  who  was  plainly  an  alien,  were  shame 
fully  used  before  his  friends,  the  news  of  it  would  get 
to  Marcus'  ears  and  he  would  understand  the  meaning 
of  it  all.  His  quick  mind  would  couple  the  episode  at 
Euthro's  with  the  threats  she  had  uttered  on  that  night 
when  she  had  both  won  and  lost  him.  He  would  come 
like  an  enraged  lion  to  deliver  the  captive  girl,  but  — 
he  would  come  too  late.  By  the  time  he  appeared  she 
would  have  been  made  a  thing  of  shame,  to  be  pitied 
but  no  longer  to  be  esteemed. 

At  the  outset  the  scheme  worked  well.  The  capture 
was  easily  effected.  Marcus'  friends,  she  was  sure, 
would  be  present  at  the  desired  moment,  for  at  the 
wine  room  she  had  invited  them  in  such  terms  as  to 
rouse  their  curiosity.  But  she  had  been  a  little  con 
cerned  when  she  found  that  Merari  had  been  released 
by  Euthro's  orders.  The  timid  knave  had  become 
alarmed  on  discovering  that  some  of  the  worst  scoun 
drels  who  frequented  his  establishment  were  planning 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         333 

to  torture  the  old  Hebrew  in  order  to  wring  from  him 
a  large  ransom.  For  well  did  these  cutthroats  know 
how  rich  he  was.  Fearing  the  consequences  of  such 
an  outrage,  Euthro  set  Merari  free  after  twenty-four 
hours  of  confinement  without  consulting  Delphium. 
The  old  man's  story,  so  he  argued,  would  go  unheeded, 
because  he  was  an  alien.  Delphium  however  did  not 
feel  sure  of  this.  Without  knowing  anything  of  Lu 
cius  Agrippa's  old-time  indebtedness  to  the  Hebrew 
merchant,  she  yet  felt  a  little  uneasy  lest  Merari  should 
somehow  get  Marcus'  ear  sooner  than  she  wished. 
Still,  she  did  not  believe  that  this  could  happen  until 
the  foul  work  she  was  planning  was  accomplished. 

It  was  important,  however,  that  the  Hebrew  girl 
should  come  in  a  drugged  and  thoroughly  dazed  con 
dition  before  the  motley  crowd  that  would  gather  in  Eu- 
thro's  hall.  Otherwise  she  might  make  such  a  plea  for 
help  as  would  rally  the  friends  of  Marcus  to  her  as 
sistance  or  cause  one  or  more  of  them  to  go  at  once  to 
Marcus  and  tell  him  what  was  happening.  Accord 
ingly,  when  she  was  informed  that  Naarah  was  not 
touching  either  the  bread  or  the  wine  that  was  set  be 
fore  her,  she  determined  to  go  herself  to  the  fractious 
girl,  disarm  her  suspicions  by  craft  and  fair  promises 
and  induce  her  to  eat  and  drink.  Force  she  was 
averse  to  using  unless  it  should  be  absolutely  necessary. 
It  was  not  that  the  idea  of  applying  violence  to  one  of 
her  own  sex  was  repulsive  to  her.  So  desperate  was 
she  that  she  was  ready  to  resort  to  desperate  means  to 
accomplish  her  design.  But  she  regarded  force  as  a 
clumsy  weapon.  She  would  employ  it  only  when  craft 


334         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

and  ingenuity  failed.  A  simple  thing  it  should  be  to 
convince  this  obstinate  girl  that  no  harm  was  to  be  done 
to  her  and  that  she  could  safely  satisfy  the  demands 
of  appetite.  The  wine  that  had  been  set  before  her 
contained  a  potent  drug  that  dulled  the  senses  and 
made  clear  thinking  or  intelligent  speech  impossible. 
This  wine  the  captive  girl  must  be  persuaded  to  drink. 

Softly  Delphium  unlocked  the  door  of  Naarah's 
apartment,  glided  in  and  fastened  it  behind  her.  Naa- 
rah  was  asleep.  She  was  exhausted  by  lack  of  suste 
nance  and  by  mental  suffering;  and  after  the  withdrawal 
of  Bacchis,  the  serving  woman,  she  had  again  dropped 
into  a  restless  slumber.  A  disturbing  dream  awoke 
her.  She  thought  she  saw  robbers  beating  her  grand 
father,  and  she  opened  her  eyes  to  see  Delphium  stand 
ing  before  her,  smiling  and  seemingly  the  image  of 
friendliness. 

"  I  fear  your  dreams  were  troubled,"  was  Del- 
phium's  greeting.  '  Your  lips  were  moving  and  you 
shivered  as  you  opened  your  eyes.  But  you  must  not 
be  alarmed  and  anxious.  I  am  the  bringer  of  good 


news." 


Naarah  looked  intently  at  her.  She  had  risen  to 
her  feet  and  stood  facing  her,  trying  with  all  her 
might  to  fathom  the  character  of  this  fair-faced  woman 
and  read  her  soul.  She  had  a  feeling  that  her  very 
salvation  depended  on  her  power  of  seeing  correctly 
and  making  no  mistake.  She  gazed  so  long  and  so 
hard  indeed  that  Delphium's  face  flushed  and  her  eyes 
dropped. 

"  Come,  come !  "  said  the  embarrassed  Greek  in  a 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         335 

gay  tone.  "  Let  us  make  ourselves  comfortable. 
Suppose  we  sit  down  together  on  this  mattress.  We 
can  then  talk  freely  and  understand  each  other." 

She  took  her  seat  accordingly  and  Naarah  sat  down 
beside  her.  She  had  seen  enough  to  make  her  deeply 
suspicious.  "  She  is  false  and  I  must  be  on  my  guard," 
was  her  thought,  but  she  determined  to  meet  craft  with 
craft.  So  she  sat  as  invited,  but  still  kept  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  other's  face. 

"  You  say  you  bring  good  news,"  she  said  question- 
ingly.  '  That  can  only  mean  that  I  am  to  be  set  free 
at  once.  I  can  conceive  of  no  other  good  news,  im 
prisoned  here  as  I  am." 

"  Oh,  do  not  say  that!  You  are  not  a  prisoner.  I 
am  so  sorry  you  have  been  treated  thus.  It  has  all 
been  a  mistake.  You  will  be  set  free  in  a  few  hours." 

"  Why  not  at  once?" 

"  Mistakes  can  not  always  be  rectified  right  away, 
you  know.  There  are  persons  who  have  to  be  con 
sulted,  and  orders  from  them  have  to  be  awaited." 

"What  persons?" 

"  How  inquisitive  you  are  I  I  should  like  to  tell 
you,  but  I  could  not  do  so  without  betraying  secrets, 
and  I  am  sure  you  would  not  wish  me  to  do  that." 

"  My  grandfather  and  I  were  both  seized.  You 
say  a  mistake  has  been  made.  I  can  only  understand 
from  that  that  the  wrong  persons  were  overpowered 
and  carried  off.  Who  were  the  right  ones  and  why 
were  they  to  be  treated  with  such  violence  ?  " 

"  Secrets  again  I  "  said  Delphium,  smiling  and  hold 
ing  up  a  deprecating  finger.  But  try  as  she  would,  she 


336         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

could  not  meet  the  steady  gaze  of  her  questioner.  She 
could  only  glance  at  her  quickly,  almost  furtively,  and 
immediately  lower  her  eyes. 

44  You  surely  can  not  say  it  was  for  a  good  pur 
pose?"  persisted  Naarah. 

"  Well,  then;  I  will  say  it  was  for  no  bad  one,"  re 
plied  Delphium,  with  a  strained  attempt  at  a  playful 
laugh. 

"  No  bad  one  ?  People  are  not  carried  off  by  force  in 
broad  daylight  unless  harm  is  to  be  done  to  them.  But 
I  will  respect  your  secrets.  Surely  though,  you  can  tell 
me  of  my  grandfather.  Where  is  he?  Is  he  well?  " 

"  He  is  well  and  he  will  soon  be  set  free,"  replied 
Delphium,  little  supposing,  however,  that  this  was  soon 
to  take  place  as  a  result  of  Euthro's  timidity. 

"  I  suppose  when  the  mistake  has  been  rectified," 
continued  Naarah  with  the  same  pointed  interrogations, 
"  it  will  mean  that  those  persons  you  can  not  mention 
have  been  consulted  and  the  orders  from  them  have 
been  received?  " 

"  Yes,  yes!  Exactly  so.  How  clever  you  are  at 
seeing  things !  " 

"  And  when  the  orders  have  been  received,  of  course 
my  grandfather  and  I  shall  be  released  together?  " 

1  Y-e-s.  That  is,  I  suppose  so.  But  what  a  steady 
fire  of  questions !  Really,  I  cannot  give  you  any  more 
information.  I  came  here  to  question  you,  not  to  be 
asked  all  manner  of  things  I  cannot  tell  without  be 
traying  secrets.  I  wanted  to  know  if  you  had  slept 
well?  I  hope  you  had  a  comfortable  night?  ". 

"  I  slept  as  well  as  I  could  when  I  was  tortured  with 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         337 

anxiety  about  my  grandfather." 

"  And  the  bread  and  wine  —  I  hope  you  found  them 
satisfying?  It  is  simple  fare  to  be  sure,  but  good  and 
wholesome.  Why,  dear  me!  You  have  not  tasted 
them." 

Naarah  was  closely  watching  every  look  and  motion 
of  her  visitor,  but  she  made  no  reply.  Her  silence 
together  with  her  fixed  look  was  confusing  to  Del- 
phium,  who  hesitated,  but  went  on  after  a  moment's 
pause, 

"  You  surely  must  be  hungry  after  all  this  time. 
Perhaps  the  food  was  too  simple.  You  ought  to  have 
something  more  delicate,  more  tempting.  I  will  send 
you  a  pasty  of  capon,  some  fresh  fruit  and  a  choicer 
kind  of  wine.  This  has  been  standing  so  long  that  it 
must  be  flat  and  stale.  But  you  really  must  eat  and 
drink.  If  you  do  not,  you  will  be  weak  and  faint  when 
you  meet  your  grandfather.  He  is  old,  you  know, 
and  he  might  require  assistance  which  you  would  be 
unable  to  give.  He  may  not  be  bearing  his  captivity 
as  well  as  you." 

"  Do  you  know  that  he  is  well?  Have  you  seen 
him?" 

"  Questions  again!  I  cannot  answer  any  more  ques 
tions  and  I  do  not  need  to,  for  you  and  your  grand 
father  will  be  united  again  before  very  long.  But  do 
eat  and  drink,  I  beg  of  you,  so  that  you  may  be  able  to 
help  and  comfort  him  when  you  see  him.  At  any 
rate  drink  the  wine  if  you  cannot  eat!  It  will  refresh 
and  strengthen  you." 

"  I  may  eat  but  I  shall  not  drink,"  said  Naarah  to 


338         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

herself  as  Delphium  left  the  room.  Suspicious  from 
the  first,  she  had  grown  more  and  more  so  as  she  had 
noted  the  expression,  the  attitudes  and  the  words  of 
the  crafty  Greek  throughout  the  interview.  Subtle  as 
Delphium  was,  she  had  betrayed  herself.  She  had  not 
been  prepared  for  the  eager,  searching  and  untiring 
gaze  that  was  directed  at  her  nor  for  such  a  series  of 
embarrassing  questions.  She  was  not  wholly  easy  in 
her  mind  as  she  left  her  captive  and  she  feared  that 
her  visit  had  been  a  failure;  but  she  sent  the  pasty,  the 
fruit  and  another  potion  of  the  drugged  wine. 

With  some  hesitation  Naarah  ate  sparingly  of  the 
pasty  and  the  fruit  after  finding  that  neither  had  any 
peculiar  or  suspicious  taste.  The  wine  she  felt  abso 
lutely  sure  was  either  drugged  or  poisoned;  but  to 
avoid  suspicion  she  emptied  most  of  it  into  the  straw 
of  her  mattress  through  a  rent  she  found  in  the  cov 
ering.  Then  she  sat  and  awaited  events. 

Toward  evening  the  attendant  Bacchis  came  in 
again  with  a  basin  of  water  and  a  napkin  and  inquired 
of  Naarah  if  she  wished  fresh  clothing  of  any  kind. 
"  No,"  answered  Naarah,  hardly  opening  her  eyes, 
for  she  pretended  to  be  asleep  the  moment  the  woman 
entered,  thinking  she  should  thus  be  showing  the  ef 
fects  the  wine  ought  to  produce.  Her  apparent  stupor 
seemed  to  cause  the  woman  satisfaction.  She  peered 
into  the  cup  and  then  nodded  approvingly  as  she 
looked  at  her  prisoner. 

"  So  you've  drunk  of  the  wine,  my  beauty,"  she  said 
with  a  low  chuckle.  "  Ah,  it's  a  rare,  choice  liquor. 
I'll  bring  you  more  of  it  and  you  would  best  drink 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         339 

again.     'Twill  make  you  happy." 

So  saying,  she  went  out  and  presently  returned  with 
an  urn  from  which  she  filled  the  cup.  She  also  left  a 
piece  of  fish  and  a  generous  portion  of  fine  bread  in 
place  of  the  pasty  and  once  more  withdrew. 

"  How  crafty  they  are!  "  thought  Naarah  to  her 
self.  "  She  did  not  bring  the  urn  of  wine  with  her 
when  she  first  came  in,  for  she  did  not  want  to  rouse 
my  suspicion  by  seeming  to  press  the  liquor  upon  me. 
But  she  was  pleased  when  she  thought  I  had  drunk  of 
it  and  went  at  once  to  get  more.  Her  visit  was  made 
purposely  to  see  if  any  of  the  wine  had  been  used.  I 
will  not  taste  a  drop  of  it;  but  I  will  empty  this  also 
into  the  mattress  to  make  them  think  I  have  partaken 
of  it  freely." 

So  she  emptied  a  goodly  portion  of  this  second  fill 
ing  into  the  mattress  and  again  lay  down.  The  sun 
sank  and  darkness  slowly  gathered  in  the  room. 
When  the  daylight  was  wholly  gone  the  door  was  again 
opened  and  Bacchis  and  two  other  women,  equally  ill- 
favored,  made  their  entrance,  one  of  them  bearing  a 
lantern.  Again  Naarah  pretended  to  be  asleep.  The 
women  came  to  her  couch;  again  Bacchis  looked  into 
the  cup;  again  she  showed  satisfaction  as  she  saw  that 
it  was  nearly  empty. 

"  Come !  "  she  cried,  leaning  over  and  shaking  the 
supposed  slumberer.  "  You  are  wanted  below." 

u  Am  I  to  be  released?"  cried  Naarah,  sitting  up 
and  looking  eagerly  into  the  woman's  face.  But  her 
question  brought  no  immediate  reply.  Bacchis  was 
suspicious.  After  reporting  that  the  wine  cup  had 


340         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

been  found  empty,  she  had  received  instructions  to 
bring  the  captive  girl  down  stairs  at  a  stated  hour. 
That  the  prisoner  would  be  in  a  drugged  and  bewil 
dered  condition  was  confidently  assumed.  But  Naa- 
rah's  eager  inquiry  showed  that  her  mind  was  clear 
and  vigorous.  What  was  the  explanation?  Had  she 
really  drunk  the  wine,  or  was  it  working  more  slowly 
than  usual?  And  should  the  orders  be  obeyed  or 
should  a  new  report  be  taken  to  Delphium?  Bacchis 
hesitated  for  a  moment;  but,  with  the  mechanical  mind 
that  belongs  to  people  of  her  class,  she  decided  that  an 
order  was  an  order.  So  she  gruffly  told  Naarah  that 
she  was  not  there  to  answer  questions  and  repeated  her 
command. 

'Why  am  I  wanted  below?"  demanded  Naarah, 
loth  to  go  anywhere  under  such  forbidding  guidance. 

l<  No  matter  why,"  was  the  answer,  given  in  a  men 
acing  tone.  "  Come  at  once,  or  you'll  be  made  to 


come." 


Resistance  was  folly.  With  a  slow  and  unwilling 
step  Naarah  passed  through  the  doorway  and  followed 
Bacchis,  who  led  her  through  a  narrow  passage  and 
down  a  straight  steep  stairway.  The  lantern  afforded 
the  only  light,  as  there  were  no  lamps  fixed  upon  the 
walls.  The  bottom  of  the  stairway  reached,  they 
went  some  thirty  steps  along  another  passage  and  then 
Bacchis  opened  the  door  of  a  lighted  room,  thrust 
Naarah  unceremoniously  inside  and  closed  and  fast 
ened  the  door  behind  her. 

Bewildered  yet  alert,  Naarah  looked  around  her. 
Intrepid  though  she  was,  her  heart  sank  within  her  as 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         341 

she  took  in  the  scene.  She  was  in  a  room  about 
twenty  feet  square,  and  in  it  were  a  dozen  or  more 
women  whom  she  saw  at  once  to  be  lost  to  every  sense 
of  modesty  and  decency.  Their  clothing  was  in  keep 
ing  with  the  bold,  hard  look  of  their  faces.  The 
presence  of  one  would  have  been  offensive.  That  of 
all  was  loathsome. 

For  a  few  moments  they  gazed  at  her  in  curiosity. 
They  had  expected  something  different.  A  dazed 
woman,  staring  about  vacantly,  acting  strangely,  and, 
in  case  she  spoke,  talking  incoherently,  was  what  they 
had  counted  on  seeing;  for  they  knew  that  the  wine 
given  to  their  victim  had  been  drugged  and  that  the 
drug  should  produce  a  confused  mental  state  and  an 
irresponsible  behavior.  They  were  therefore  sur 
prised  to  see  before  them  a  girl  whose  wonderful 
beauty  they  could  not  help  envying  and  whose  com 
posed  mien  and  penetrating  glances  gave  no  indication 
of  a  dulled  or  bewildered  brain. 

But  their  curiosity  was  soon  satisfied.  Drugged  or 
not  drugged,  this  queenly  looking  girl  was  to  be  shame 
fully  used.  So  they  showered  her  with  foul  epithets, 
asked  her  all  manner  of  indecent  questions  and  laid 
rude  hands  upon  her.  They  tore  away  her  outer  gar 
ment,  pulled  her  hair  out  of  its  braids  not  without 
painful  violence,  and  pushed  her  from  one  to  another 
of  their  group  with  such  force  that  several  times  she 
fell  upon  the  floor. 

But  this  was  only  a  beginning.  On  one  side  of  the 
room  there  were  four  steps  leading  up  to  a  door. 
This  was  thrown  open,  and  up  the  steps  and  through 


342         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

the  door  Naarah  was  now  hustled,  breathless,  dazed 
and  terrified.  She  had  just  time  to  see  that  she  was 
on  a  stage  and  confronting  a  throng  of  spectators 
when  the  rough  handling  began  again.  A  wild  and 
furious  dance  was  started  by  the  women;  and  though 
she  could  not  perform  its  measures  and  most  surely 
would  not  have  performed  them  if  she  could,  she  was 
seized  now  by  one  and  now  by  another  of  the  dancers 
and  made  to  keep  a  rude  sort  of  accompaniment. 

"  Oh,  help !  "  she  managed  to  cry  at  last,  breaking 
away  from  her  tormentors  to  a  corner  of  the  stage  and 
looking  appealingly  to  the  strange  assemblage  before 
her.  "  Is  there  no  man  here  who  has  enough  respect 
for  his  mother  to  help  an  innocent  and  friendless 
girl?" 

Hardly  were  the  words  out  of  her  mouth  when  a  ter 
rific  crash  was  heard,  the  concussion  of  which  jarred 
the  whole  building.  It  was  followed  by  another  and 
then  by  a  third.  While  all  in  the  hall  and  on  the 
stage  were  silent,  wondering  and  alarmed,  the  door 
that  connected  the  hall  with  the  outer  passageway 
was  hastily  thrown  wide  and  Gugon,  Delphium's  serv 
itor,  rushed  in. 

"  It  is  Marcus,  the  son  of  the  Prefect,"  he  shouted. 
"  He  is  beating  down  the  door.  Quick,  hide  the  girl! 
There  is  not  a  moment  to  lose." 


XXXI 

AS  runners  dash  down  toward  the  goal  to  win  the 
coveted  prize,  so  Marcus  and  Hacho  had 
speeded  straight  from  Agrippa's  house  to 
Euthro's  unclean  resort.  That  after  reaching  it  he 
could  pass  in  unchallenged,  Marcus  did  not  suppose. 
He  knew  that  there  were  occasions  when  the  entrance 
was  carefully  guarded,  and  this  he  felt  sure  was  one 
of  them.  At  such  time  a  special  signal  was  required 
of  all  who  wished  to  enter;  but  the  signal  that  was 
commonly  used  he  was  acquainted  with  and  by  means 
of  it  he  hoped  to  gain  admission.  If  the  signal  failed, 
he  could  but  trust  to  the  resourcefulness  of  himself 
and  his  stout  ally. 

Arriving  somewhat  breathless  but  none  the  less 
ready  for  instant  action,  he  went  down  the  stone  steps 
with  Hacho,  knocked  on  the  door  three  times,  then 
gave  three  double  knocks  and  pronounced  a  word  not 
to  be  found  in  the  writings  of  Cicero.  But  the  porter 
was  wary.  Both  Euthro  and  Delphium  had  charged 
him  to  see  that  no  one  was  admitted  who  might  spoil 
the  evening's  entertainment.  Moreover,  Delphium 
had  stationed  Gugon  with  him  to  see  that  these  in 
structions  were  effectively  carried  out.  Hence,  in 
stead  of  removing  the  bar  and  letting  the  double  doors 
open  inward,  the  porter  pushed  back  a  small  sliding 
panel  in  one  of  them  and  looked  through.  Gugon 

343 


344         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

looked  also  and  instantly  recognized  Marcus.  The 
panel  was  pushed  in  place  with  a  vicious  snap  and  the 
doors  were  not  thrown  open.  On  the  contrary  they 
were  now  secured  by  a  second  bar.  For  this  was  the 
one  man  above  all  others  to  be  kept  out.  On  the  mor 
row  he  would  be  welcome;  but  Delphium  was  not 
ready  to  receive  him  yet.  He  would  spoil  her  scheme 
by  appearing  now.  He  would  prevent  the  infamy 
which  she  was  planning.  And  that  huge  companion 
of  his  looked  very  menacing.  What  a  commotion  he 
might  make  if  he  were  once  inside!  By  all  means 
these  two  were  to  be  excluded. 

Marcus  was  dismayed  when  he  realized  that  the 
doors  had  been  doubly  barred.  They  were  of  massive 
oak;  the  pivots  on  which  they  swung  were  of  metal 
and  were  deep  sunk  in  the  threshold  and  the  lintel 
which  were  both  of  stone.  Admission  in  that  quarter 
seemed  quite  hopeless. 

"  What  shall  we  do,  Hacho?  "  inquired  Marcus,  ut 
terly  perplexed. 

"  Break  down  the  door." 

14  But  we  can't.  A  dozen  men  couldn't  do  it.  It 
would  take  a  battering  ram." 

"  There  is  one  right  here,"  replied  Hacho  imper- 
turbably. 

And  thereupon  he  seized  one  of  the  stone  steps,  a 
heavy  piece  of  granite  some  four  feet  long  which  a 
man  of  ordinary  strength  could  hardly  have  lifted 
from  the  ground.  Raising  and  poising  this  ponderous 
slab  with  perfect  ease,  he  darted  forward  and  drove  it 
with  tremendous  force  against  the  double  doors.  A 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         345 

second  blow  followed  and  a  third.  The  staples  which 
held  the  bars  in  place  began  to  give.  Three  more 
blows  tore  them  completely  loose.  The  doors  opened 
wide  and  Marcus  and  Hacho  plunged  into  the  dimly 
lighted  passage. 

Marcus  knew  where  to  find  the  door  that  gave  en 
trance  into  the  assembly  hall  and  toward  it  he  made 
his  way.  As  he  advanced  he  thought  he  heard  a 
smothered  cry  for  help,  but  he  was  not  sure.  The 
truth  was,  the  porter  had  followed  Gugon  into  the  hall 
and  closed  and  locked  the  door  that  gave  admission 
to  it  in  order  to  keep  out  these  masterful  intruders  as 
long  as  possible.  Just  as  he  closed  and  fastened  it, 
Naarah,  thrilled  and  excited  by  Gugon's  shout  of 
warning,  cried  out,  "O  Marcus,  save  me!"  But 
hands  were  placed  quickly  over  her  lips  as  she  began 
to  speak,  and  she  was  hurried  off  the  stage  into  the 
dark  corridor.  A  cloth  was  held  over  her  mouth  and 
her  cries  were  effectually  stifled. 

The  door  that  opened  into  the  hall  was  not  a  dou 
ble  one  and  was  secured  by  a  lock  instead  of  a  bar. 
The  lock  was  no  flimsy  one,  but  it  was  a  feeble  barrier 
to  a  man  of  Marcus'  strength.  Dashing  against  the 
door  with  all  his  force,  he  burst  it  open  at  the  first 
onset.  Into  the  hall  he  strode  with  Hacho  close  be 
hind  him.  Once  inside,  he  had  expected  to  encounter 
resistance,  perhaps  violence.  It  was  Delphium  who 
stood  facing  him.  Her  face  wore  a  smile,  but  it  was 
not  a  pleasant  one  to  see.  It  was  not  friendly.  It 
meant  malice. 

"  As  masterful  as  ever,  I  see,"  she  said  in  cutting 


346         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

tones.  "  But  really  it  was  not  necessary  to  use  Eu- 
thro's  door  so  rudely.  You  would  have  been  instantly 
admitted  had  you  sent  your  name  to  us  by  Gugon. 
Such  as  our  show  is  to-night,  you  are  welcome  to  see 
it."  And  she  waved  her  hand  toward  the  stage  where 
the  group  of  coarse  and  frowzy  girls  stood  huddled 
together  and  looking  on  with  eager  curiosity.  An 
incident  like  this  was  a  welcome  interruption  to  the 
monotony  of  their  deadened  and  degraded  lives. 

"  Delphium,"  was  Marcus'  curt  query,  "  where's 
Naarah?" 

"Naarah?  Naarah?  Who  pray  is  Naarah? 
There  is  no  one  of  that  name  here." 

u  Delphium,  where's  Naarah?  " 

Delphium's  face  reddened.  She  had  looked  Mar 
cus  straight  in  the  eye  while  she  spoke,  but  she 
could  stand  his  steady  gaze  no  longer.  She  dropped 
her  eyes  and  her  confusion  bore  witness  to  her  guilt. 
It  is  one  thing  to  be  abandoned  to  evil;  it  is  another 
to  be  hardened  in  it.  Only  by  long  service  do  the 
tools  of  wickedness  get  the  edge  that  is  not  blunted 
by  the  grain  of  virtue.  Still,  nerved  by  her  lust  for 
vengeance,  she  did  not  lose  her  effrontery. 

;'  If  you  are  so  sure  she  is  here,  you  had  better  look 
for  her  yourself,"  she  answered.  "  I  know  nothing 
about  any  such  person." 

"  So  I  will  and  I  will  take  you  as  my  guide.  Come 
with  me." 

"  May  I  rot  before  I  go  a  single  step  with  you!  " 

l(  I  say  you  will  come." 

Thereupon  he  seized  her  right  hand  and  twisted  it 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         347 

till  she  screamed  with  pain.  He  loathed  himself  for 
doing  it,  but  he  could  not  hesitate.  He  knew  the  struc 
ture  was  full  of  secret  passages,  concealed  chambers 
and  all  manner  of  contrivances  for  defeating  justice 
and  covering  up  foul  deeds.  Euthro,  to  be  sure, 
shrank  from  criminal  doings.  The  thought  of  being 
caught  in  the  iron  clasp  of  the  law  had  always  been  a 
disturbing  one  to  him.  But  Marcus  reasoned  that  the 
miscreant  was  Delphium's  tool.  He  would  sway  to 
her  will  like  an  osier  to  the  breeze.  Whatsoever  the 
astute  Greek  planned  was  almost  certain  to  be  exe 
cuted.  Even  while  he  was  lingering,  the  vile  minions 
of  the  place  might  be  making  way  with  the  innocent 
girl.  He  was  compelled  therefore  to  resort  to  ex 
treme  measures,  even  to  using  violence  to  a  woman  to 
whom  only  a  month  ago  he  had  uttered  words  of  ten 
der  affection. 

Delphium  was  desperate.  Courageous  at  all  times, 
she  was  roused  to  recklessness  by  the  humiliation  and 
the  rough  treatment  she  had  received.  Hatred  fired 
the  worst  passions  in  her  nature.  She  looked  about 
her.  It  was  a  motley  crowd  that  her  eyes  rested  upon. 
There  were  not  a  few  of  Marcus'  own  class  present. 
There  was  a  whole  swarm  of  shopkeepers  and  others 
of  the  vulgar  bourgeois  type.  Not  as  numerous,  but 
armed  and  always  eager  for  a  fray,  were  the  deni 
zens  of  Rome's  shadiest  streets  and  alleys.  These 
would  all  rush  forward  at  her  call.  Some  of  them, 
she  had  not  failed  to  notice,  scowled  and  half  drew 
their  knives  when  Marcus'  merciless  grasp  had  made 
her  cry  out  in  pain.  She  would  appeal  to  them.  Per- 


348         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

haps  they  would  cut  to  pieces  this  proud  patrician  and 
his  friends.  For  those  who  rallied  to  the  side  of  Mar 
cus  would  for  the  most  part  be  weaponless,  she  was 
sure. 

"Friends!"  she  cried,  "will  you  see  a  helpless 
woman  abused?  Help!  Help  I  Deliver  me  from 
this  brute  of  a  man!  " 

A  sudden  roar  went  up  from  all  the  depraved  spir 
its  who  were  present,  and  they  hurried  forward  to  res 
cue  her  and  make  short  work  of  Marcus  and  his  ally. 

Some  fifty  of  these  ruffians  forced  their  way  through 
the  crowd,  which,  awed  by  the  drawn  and  brandished 
knives,  was  all  too  eager  to  give  them  room.  Fifty  to 
two,  they  counted  on  an  easy  victory.  They  did  not 
know,  as  Delphium  did,  that  Marcus'  own  circle  of  in 
timates  was  there.  But  there  they  were  and  they  were 
not  slow  in  making  their  presence  manifest.  Moving 
even  more  quickly  than  Delphium's  scurrilous  support 
ers,  Milo,  Caius,  Bibrax,  yes,  and  Bibulus  and  Curio 
also,  with  others  who  have  not  at  any  time  been  named 
but  whose  loyalty  to  Marcus  did  not  falter  now,  leaped 
to  the  spot  where  their  old  comrade  stood  and  ranged 
themselves  about  him.  Most  of  them  had  no  arms. 
All  of  them  were  pleasure  lovers  and  without  moral 
seriousness.  But  they  were  Romans;  they  were  not 
afraid  of  death;  and  they  would  not  stand  still  and  see 
their  friend  cut  down. 

But  Marcus  had  a  much  more  formidable  ally  in 
Hacho.  Had  Delphium's  rescuers  seen  this  towering 
giant  when  he  beat  down  the  entrance  door,  they  might 
not  have  come  forward  so  eagerly.  As  they  drew 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         349 

near  to  Marcus  and  his  friends,  Hacho  darted  upon 
them  like  a  thunderbolt,  seized  the  foremost  of  them 
before  he  could  use  his  knife,  swung  him  in  the  air  by 
his  feet,  and,  using  him  as  a  club,  dashed  his  head 
against  that  of  one  of  his  comrades.  Both  skulls 
cracked  and  it  was  a  dead  body  that  Hacho  now 
wielded;  but  with  it  he  felled  several  more  of  his  op 
ponents  before  he  paused. 

The  men  whom  he  faced  were  not  easily  daunted  by 
death.  Some  of  them  had  served  in  bloody  encoun 
ters  on  land  and  sea  and  were  accustomed  to  count 
their  lives  as  nothing.  But  this  gruesome  method  of 
fighting  cooled  their  ardor.  They  could  face  cold 
steel.  To  be  mowed  down  by  the  corpse  of  a  boon 
companion  was  appalling.  They  drew  back  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  as  they  did  so  Marcus  took  advantage  of  the 
lull  in  the  conflict  and  quelled  the  storm. 

"Fools!"  he  shouted.  "Would  you  ruin  your 
selves  and  ruin  Euthro  and  ruin  Delphium?  You  are 
not  fighting  me.  You  are  fighting  the  Prefect  of 
Rome.  He  knows  I  am  here.  He  knows  why  I  have 
come.  If  any  harm  comes  to  me,  both  Delphium  and 
Euthro  will  end  their  days  in  a  dungeon.  Put  up  your 
knives  and  behave  like  decent  men,  or  I  swear  a  whole 
legion  shall  pull  this  foul  nest  to  pieces  to-morrow. 
Now,  Delphium,  will  you  show  me  where  you  have 
put  Naarah?  " 

"  Yes,  but  unhand  me  first.  I  won't  be  treated  like 
a  child." 

Marcus  released  the  hand  which  he  had  held  with 
no  light  clasp  all  this  while,  and  Delphium  instantly 


350         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

darted  away  to  a  distant  corner  of  the  hall.  Marcus 
was  about  to  follow  her  and  seize  her  again;  but  be 
fore  he  could  do  so  she  called  out, 

"  Don't  follow  me!  It  is  needless.  I  shall  keep 
my  word.  Euthro,  show  Marcus  to  the  room  where 
the  alien  girl  is  confined!  Take  him  by  the  broad 
staircase  —  by  the  broad  staircase  where  it  is  light! 
There,"  she  added,  "  Euthro  himself  will  go  with  you, 
and  you  know  he  would  not  dare  to  play  you  false." 

;<  I  don't  think  he  would,"  said  Marcus  grimly. 
"  Be  it  so!  Hacho,  remain  here  and  see  that  no  mis 
chief  is  done !  I  will  follow  Euthro." 

"  Be  careful,  master!  "  was  Hacho's  warning. 

"  Have  no  fear!"  answered  Marcus,  and  he  fol 
lowed  Euthro  out  of  the  hall. 

There  was  an  evil  look  on  Delphium's  face  as  she 
watched  them  go  out.  If  any  that  were  near  her  had 
noted  her  carefully,  they  could  not  have  failed  to  see 
that  she  was  under  deep  excitement  and  that  her  eyes, 
which  fairly  gleamed  with  hatred,  betrayed  a  desper 
ate  state  of  mind  and  feeling.  She  was  indeed  beside 
herself  with  rage  and  her  purpose  was  fell  and  deadly. 
This  was  Marcus'  hour  of  triumph.  She  would  turn 
it  into  one  of  despair.  The  consequences  she  would 
not  weigh.  They  might  be  fearful ;  but  she  would  find 
a  way  to  evade  them.  What  the  way  might  be,  she 
had  no  idea.  She  could  not  pause  to  reflect.  Passion 
mastered  her.  It  had  to  be  obeyed. 

Mastered  by  these  feelings,  she  had  broken  away 
from  Marcus,  made  Euthro  accompany  him  and  given 
the  direction  that  they  should  go  by  the  broad  stair- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         351 

way.  This  was  a  roundabout  way  to  the  room  where 
Naarah  was  confined,  not  by  any  means  as  short  and 
direct  as  that  by  which  she  had  been  conducted  to  the 
ante  room  of  the  stage  and  by  which  she  had  just  been 
carried  back  again.  The  task  of  taking  her  back  Del- 
phium  had  had  just  time  enough  to  attend  to  after 
Gugon  announced  that  Marcus  was  at  hand.  She  had 
bidden  two  of  Euthro's  serving  men  hurry  Naarah 
back  to  her  room,  gag  her  securely,  lock  the  door  and 
leave  her. 

But  she  knew  a  still  shorter  way  to  Naarah's  cham 
ber.  No  sooner  had  Marcus  and  Euthro  left  the  hall 
than  she  herself  passed  out  by  another  door  into  a  dark 
passageway.  Through  this  passage  she  glided  rapidly 
till  she  found  a  door  which  opened  upon  a  secret  stair 
way.  This  door  she  left  open  that  it  might  cause  her 
no  delay  on  her  return.  Up  this  stairway  she  pro 
ceeded  with  the  same  hurried  and  stealthy  step  and 
found  the  handle  of  the  door  at  the  top.  This  door, 
artfully  concealed,  gave  admission  into  Naarah's  room. 
Noiselessly  she  pushed  it  open  and  now  she  stood  in 
the  presence  of  the  girl  who  had  roused  her  hatred. 
Where  was  she?  The  light  was  very  dim,  but  her 
eyes  were  now  so  accustomed  to  the  darkness  that  she 
could  just  make  out  the  figure  she  was  seeking.  The 
terrified  girl  was  sitting  on  her  mattress  in  utter  mis 
ery.  Her  head  was  bent  low;  her  hands  were  tightly 
bound  behind  her.  Marcus,  she  felt  sure,  would  not 
succeed  in  finding  her,  and  soon  she  would  be  again 
dragged  forth  to  be  the  victim  of  insult  and  foul 
abuse.  Why  did  the  God  of  her  people  allow  one  of 


352         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

His  children  to  be  so   cruelly  used  by  these  wicked 
aliens  who  offered  no  incense  at  His  shrine? 

She  was  in  even  direr  peril  than  she  feared  as  these 
thoughts  passed  through  her  mind.  The  moment  Del- 
phium  made  out  her  position  through  the  obscurity 
she  drew  a  dagger  from  her  bosom  and  stole  exult- 
ingly  toward  her.  She  could  lean  over  her  and  strike 
a  fatal  blow  before  the  girl  was  aware  that  she  was 
not  alone.  Noiseless  was  her  step;  it  gave  no  warn 
ing  of  her  presence  or  of  her  murderous  design.  But 
equally  noiseless  was  the  step  of  the  figure  that  had 
been  close  behind  her  since  she  left  the  hall  and  now 
followed  her  on  tiptoe  across  the  chamber.  Naarah 
was  utterly  unaware  of  her  danger.  Delphium  was 
equally  unaware  of  the  form  that  glided  behind  her 
like  a  phantom  through  the  gloom.  She  reached  the 
bowed  figure  of  the  girl.  Still  Naarah  was  uncon 
scious  of  her  approach.  She  leaned  over  her  and  drew 
back  her  arm  to  plunge  the  dagger  home,  only  to  find 
her  wrist  seized  and  securely  held.  Surprised  and 
startled,  she  allowed  the  blade  to  fall  ringing  to  the 
floor. 

At  the  sound  Naarah  tried  to  spring  to  her  feet. 
Bound  as  she  was,  she  could  not  do  so;  but  she  saw  the 
two  figures  standing  over  her,  she  knew  not  what  new 
peril  was  threatening,  and  even  as  the  noise  of  ap 
proaching  footsteps  was  heard  outside  she  sank  un 
conscious  upon  the  floor.  A  moment  later  the  door 
was  opened  and  Marcus  rushed  in  followed  by  Euthro 
and  two  serving  men  with  lights.  He  glanced  about 
him,  but  he  had  eyes  only  for  Naarah.  As  soon  as 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         353 

he  realized  her  condition,  he  knelt  beside  her,  cut  the 
cord  that  bound  her  hands  and  removed  the  cloth  that 
had  been  thrust  into  her  mouth.  Tenderly  he  chafed 
her  hands  and  temples  and  at  the  same  time  he  bade 
one  of  the  servants  bring  water. 

"  Stay!  Here  is  wine,"  he  said  as  he  saw  the  cup, 
still  not  quite  empty,  which  had  been  left  for  Naarah 
and  had  not  been  removed. 

"  Use  it  to  rub  her  temples  1  Do  not  let  her  drink 
it!  "  said  Euthro.  "  It  is  too  potent." 

Marcus  paused  and  looked  at  him  with  suspicion. 

"  You  mean  that  it  is  poisoned?  "  he  asked  sternly. 

"  No,  drugged,"  replied  Euthro  sheepishly. 

"  Then  why  was  it  placed  here  for  this  helpless  girl 
to  drink?" 

"  Ask  Delphium.     It  was  her  doing." 

"  Delphium  will  have  many  things  to  answer  for," 
said  Marcus,  eyeing  her  curiously  rather  than  threat 
eningly,  while  he  continued  his  efforts  at  restoration. 
"  Perhaps  among  other  things  that  dagger  which  I  see 
upon  the  floor.  What  say  you,  Cethegus?  " 

"For  that,  certainly,"  replied  Cethegus;  for  he  it 
was  who  had  followed  Delphium  and  foiled  her  mur 
derous  design.  "  She  tried  to  kill  that  poor  girl  with 
it.  She  would  have  done  so  if  I  had  not  stopped  her 
just  in  time." 

"Snake!"  hissed  Delphium,  looking  at  Cethegus 
with  fury  in  her  eyes. 

"  If  there  are  reptiles  about,  we  shall  know  how  to 
recognize  them,"  said  Marcus.  "  Pick  up  the  dagger, 
Cethegus,  and  put  it  in  your  belt.  And  don't  loose 


354         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

your  hold  on  Delphium.  She  might  feel  moved  to 
leave  us  suddenly.  But  why  doesn't  someone  bring 
water?  Hasn't  this  poor  girl  suffered,  enough  al 
ready?  And  oh,  the  shame  of  it!  They  have  taken 
away  her  stola  and  her  clothes  are  rent  and  torn. 
Euthro,  you  shall  answer  for  this.  It  was  all  done 
under  your  roof,  no  matter  who  planned  it.  If  you 
want  to  have  any  mercy  shown  you,  go  yourself  and 
bring  me  a  clean  fresh  stola.  A  clean  and  fresh  one, 
mind  you  I  None  of  those  rags  your  minions  wear! 
Ah,  here  is  the  water  at  last.  That  will  revive  her." 

Water  was  sprinkled  upon  Naarah's  face  and  her 
temples  were  bathed  with  it.  Presently  she  opened 
her  eyes  and  was  able  to  drink  a  little.  Before  she 
came  fully  to  herself,  Euthro  appeared  with  a  rich  gar 
ment  of  crimson  which  Marcus  wrapped  about  her. 
She  accepted  the  attention  unresistingly,  scarcely  real 
izing  what  was  being  done  or  who  were  about  her. 
But  she  soon  sat  up,  Marcus  supporting  her,  gazed 
around  the  room  and  said  plaintively, 

"  My  grandfather!  Where  is  my  grandfather? 
Why  don't  you  bring  him  to  me?  " 

"  You  shall  see  him  soon,"  said  Marcus.  "  I  am 
going  to  take  you  home  and  you  will  find  him  there." 

a  Oh,  take  me  at  once!  My  grandfather!  I  want 
my  grandfather."  Then,  recognizing  Delphium,  she 
said,  "  Oh,  why  did  you  bring  me  here  and  treat  me 
so  cruelly?  Have  I  ever  done  you  any  harm?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Delphium,  her  wrath  again  mak 
ing  her  words  sound  like  a  hiss.  *  Your  black  eyes 
and  your  silly  face  have  ruined  my  life.  I  hate  you 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         355 

and  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  kill  you." 

"  Oh,  it  all  comes  back  to  me.  You  tried  to  kill 
me  in  the  dark  and  someone  saved  me  and  the  knife 
fell  on  the  floor.  And  you  are  sorry  you  did  not  do 
it?  How  can  you  feel  so  hardly  toward  me?  I  do 
not  hate  you.  I  would  be  friends  with  you.  Will 
you  not  let  me?  " 

Delphium  turned  away  her  head  and  did  not  answer. 
Naarah  gazed  beseechingly  at  her  for  a  moment. 
Then  she  looked  about  her,  realized  that  Marcus  was 
supporting  her,  blushed  and  said, 

*  You  must  help  me  to  rise,  good  sir.     You  have 
been  very  kind  to  me.      I  do  not  know  how  to  thank 
you.     My  grandfather  will  thank  you  for  me.     And 
he  will  reward  you  richly  if  you  will  let  him;  yet  I 
hardly  think  you  will.     I  believe  you  are  noble  and 
true  and  that  you  will  find  all  the  reward  you  wish  in 
thinking  of  the  good  you  have  done.     Is  it  not  so?  " 

Marcus  bowed.  He  did  not  know  how  to  speak; 
and  Naarah,  whose  attention  was  now  caught  by  the 
bright  color  of  the  robe  that  had  been  wrapped  about 
her,  blushed  again  and  said,  as  she  turned  once  more  to 
Marcus, 

*  You  are  more  than  kind.     You  are  tender  and 
thoughtful  as  a  woman.     Accept  a  woman's  gratitude. 
And  now  take  me  away !     Take  me  yourself !  "   she 
added  earnestly,  while  a  look  of  fear  came  into  her 
face.      u  I    trust   no    one    here   but  you.     And   yet   I 
would  not  be  unjust.     You  too  have  done  me  a  serv 
ice,"  she  said,  going  to  Cethegus  and  taking  his  hand 
in  both  her  own.     "  You  have  saved  my  life  and  from 


356         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

my  heart  I  thank  you.  And  now,  Marcus,  take  me 
home!" 

Marcus  found  it  difficult  to  speak.  For  the  first 
time  since  he  had  reached  the  years  of  manhood  he 
was  overcome  with  emotion.  Naarah's  gentleness 
and  humility,  her  entire  sweetness  of  nature  and  her 
ability  to  think  of  others  in  the  midst  of  her  own  heart 
rending  experiences,  affected  him  profoundly.  With 
an  effort  he  commanded  himself  and  gave  what  direc 
tions  were  necessary  before  starting  away. 

"  Cethegus,"  he  said,  "  let  me  thank  you  too !  You 
have  a  story  to  tell,  but  I  cannot  hear  it  now.  All 
that  I  ask  of  you  now  is  to  search  out  Hacho  and  tell 
him  to  go  at  once  to  my  father  and  make  known  that 
I  have  found  Merari's  granddaughter  and  have  taken 
her  home.  Euthro,  send  one  of  these  men  to  show 
me  to  the  street  by  some  private  stairway,  for  I  know 
that  there  are  more  ways  than  one  of  getting  out  of 
this  foul  haunt  of  yours.  Do  you  yourself  guard  Del- 
phium  and  be  sure  that  I  find  her  here  in  the  morning. 
If  she  escapes,  your  head  will  be  the  forfeit." 

Cethegus  had  already  departed  on  his  errand.  Eu 
thro  took  one  of  the  servants  aside,  whispered  some 
directions  into  his  ear  and  then  told  Marcus  to  follow 
him. 

Leading  and  supporting  Naarah,  Marcus  went  with 
the  man,  who  conducted  them  a  short  distance  along 
the  passageway  and  then  through  a  door,  known  only 
to  the  initiated,  and  down  a  steep  straight  stairway. 
At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  was  a  door  that  opened  into 
an  alley  in  the  rear  of  the  establishment.  Marcus  and 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         357 

Naarah  passed  out  into  the  open  air  and  both  involun 
tarily  drew  a  long  breath,  as  if  to  cleanse  themselves 
from  the  miasma  of  the  foul  place  they  were  leaving 
behind  them. 

"Tell  me  exactly  where  your  grandfather  lives," 
said  Marcus  as  they  began  their  walk.  "  I  think  I 
know  about  where  the  house  stands,  but  I  am  not  sure." 

Naarah,  who  was  rather  staggering  than  walking 
from  the  effects  of  the  terrible  ordeal  through  which 
she  had  passed,  gave  the  name  of  the  street  and  de 
scribed  the  house. 

"  I  understand,"  said  Marcus.  "  It  is  not  very  far, 
but  it  is  a  long  walk  for  one  as  tired  as  you  are." 
And  before  Naarah  fairly  realized  what  he  was  doing, 
he  had  lifted  her  in  his  arms  and  was  carrying  her  as 
if  she  were  a  child. 

"  Put  me  down!  Put  me  down  this  instant!  "  cried 
Naarah,  struggling  to  free  herself.  "  You  have  no 
right  to  use  me  so.  Besides,  I  am  heavy  and  I  should 
weary  you." 

"  About  as  much  as  the  tiniest  babe  wearies  it 
mother,"  answered  Marcus  as  he  strode  sturdily  on. 
u  So  you  need  not  resist  or  struggle.  I  obeyed  you 
the  first  time  we  met.  This  time  it  is  you  who  will 
obey  me.  When  I  have  reached  your  grandfather's 
house  I  will  set  you  down,  and  not  before.  You  are 
as  weary  as  a  child  that  has  been  crying  its  heart  out 
all  day." 

Naarah  resisted  no  longer.  She  felt  indeed  like  a 
tired  and  sleepy  child,  and  she  rested  her  head  on 
Marcus'  shoulder  with  a  sigh  of  content  and  closed 


358         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

her  eyes  as  if  to  shut  out  the  terrible  things  she  had 
endured.  But  in  a  few  moments  she  opened  them 
again  and  said, 

"  My  grandfather!  How  selfish  I  am!  You  said 
I  should  find  him  at  my  house  and  I  trust  all  you  say 
so  fully  that  I  thought  no  more  about  him.  But  do 
you  know  that  he  is  well  and  safe?  Have  you  seen 
him?" 

"  He  is  well  and  safe.  I  saw  him  at  my  father's 
house.  I  sent  word  to  him  that  you  were  found  and 
he  must  now  be  starting  for  his  home.  He  will  be 
there  almost  as  soon  as  we  are." 

"  At  your  father's  house?  How  strange!  How 
came  he  there?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you  the  whole  story  some  time  or  he 
himself  will.  But  no  more  questions  now,  Naarah! 
You  are  too  tired  to  talk.  Rest  quietly.  We  shall 
soon  be  there." 

Naarah  closed  her  eyes  again.  She  was  indeed  but 
little  inclined  to  talk.  She  was  full  of  a  great  peace 
and  thankfulness.  After  the  awful  experiences  she 
had  been  through  and  the  agony  of  mind  she  had  en 
dured,  to  rest  thus  in  the  arms  of  a  man  she  wholly 
trusted  gave  her  a  feeling  of  entire  tranquillity. 

As  for  Marcus,  he  was  in  an  ecstasy  of  joy.  He 
was  thrilled  with  passion,  and  it  was  a  passion  so  puri 
fying  that  it  did  not  need  to  be  resisted.  To  yield  to 
it  was  a  supreme  happiness.  He  loved  Naarah,  but 
his  love  was  not  mere  sentiment  or  feeling.  It  was 
reverence,  adoration.  He  knew  now  that  he  had  al 
ways  loved  her.  From  a  sense  of  duty  he  had  reso- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         359 

lutely  kept  away  from  her.  He  had  felt  the  spell  of 
Julia's  brilliancy  and  charm.  He  had  fancied  himself 
in  love  with  Delphium.  But  deep  in  his  heart  there 
had  been  the  profound  regard  for  Naarah  ever  since 
their  first  strange  meeting.  And  this  night  had  so  re 
vealed  the  sweetness  and  unselfishness  of  her  nature 
that  his  regard  had  ripened  into  unmeasured  devotion. 
He  was  her  rapt  and  adoring  lover  from  this  time  on. 

Accordingly,  they  were  both  quite  happy  enough  to 
make  words  unnecessary,  and  so  they  went  on  in  si 
lence.  For  Marcus  the  distance  was  all  too  short,  and 
too  soon  for  his  own  pleasure  he  realized  that  Merari's 
door  was  near  at  hand.  They  were  now  not  more 
than  a  hundred  paces  from  it  when  he  became  dimly 
conscious  of  a  crouching  figure  near  him  and  felt  some 
thing  like  a  hot  iron  in  his  side.  A  man  had  sprung 
upon  him  out  of  the  deep  shadows  and  had  driven  his 
knife  home.  The  blade  was  jerked  quickly  from  the 
wound  and  drawn  back  for  another  and  a  still  deadlier 
blow.  But  the  blow  never  fell.  Before  the  assassin 
could  deliver  it,  he  was  lifted  high  in  air  and  dashed 
to  the  ground  with  such  terrific  force  that  his  skull 
was  crushed  and  his  brains  oozed  forth  upon  the  pav 
ing  stones. 

u  Are  you  badly  hurt,  master?"  an  anxious  voice 
inquired. 

"  Ah,  that  was  well  done,  Hacho.  No,  I  am  not 
much  hurt.  Only  a  scratch.  But  who  was  the 
knave?" 

;<  lam  not  sure,  it  is  so  dark.  But  I  think  it  was 
Delphium's  servant,  Gugon." 


360         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

"  Beyond  a  doubt.  He  said  once  he  would  be  even 
with  me,  and  he  would  have  been  but  for  you,  Hacho. 
A  second  thrust  would  have  done  for  me.  But  how 
came  you  here,  Hacho?  I  am  afraid  you  disobeyed 


me." 


"  So  I  did,  master;  but  I  knew  your  life  was  in  dan 
ger,  and  Cethegus  said  he  would  take  your  message 
to  your  house  himself.  I  did  not  dare  to  let  you  make 
your  way  here  alone,  for  I  knew  some  of  those  bad 
men  would  follow  you  and  try  to  kill  you.  And  you 
see  I  was  right." 

"  I  can  not  find  fault  with  you.  You  have  saved 
my  life.  But  go  quickly  now  to  my  father's  and  make 
sure  that  Cethegus  gave  my  message.  Poor  Merari! 
What  agony  he  is  suffering  if  he  has  not  heard!  " 

Hacho  turned  and  seemed  to  go  rapidly  in  the  di 
rection  of  Agrippa's  house.  In  reality  he  ran  only  a 
short  distance  away  and  then  stole  back  to  make  sure 
that  Marcus  reached  his  destination  without  further 
trouble.  As  he  disappeared,  Naarah,  who  had  lis 
tened  with  dismay  to  Marcus'  conversation  with  Hacho, 
now  demanded  to  be  put  down. 

"  You  are  hurt,  Marcus.  Put  me  down  at  once!  I 
insist.  You  must  not  try  to  carry  me  when  you  are 
wounded.  You  are  making  light  of  what  is  serious. 
Put  me  down,  I  say!  " 

"  Don't  try  to  make  me  break  my  word!  I'll  put 
you  down  at  your  grandfather's  door.  I  tell  you  it 
was  only  a  scratch.  And  see  I  We  are  almost  there." 

A  few  steps  more  and  they  stood  in  front  of  Merari's 
house.  Marcus  now  put  Naarah  gently  down  and 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         361 

leaned  against  the  wall  while  she  gave  the  signal  that 
would  be  recognized  within  and  cause  the  door  to  be 
opened.  Very  slowly  and  cautiously  it  was  opened  a 
little  way  and  a  gray-haired  head  was  thrust  forth. 
Naarah  turned  to  Marcus  to  ask  him  to  come  in  and 
rest  and  let  his  hurt  be  examined.  The  light  from  the 
partially  opened  door  showed  her  that  he  was  slowly 
sinking  to  the  ground.  Before  she  could  help  him 
herself  or  bid  the  servant  to  do  so,  Hacho  again 
sprang  out  of  the  darkness,  lifted  his  master  in  his 
arms  and  bore  him  within. 


XXXII 

MORE  than  once  before  Marcus  came  fully  to 
himself  he  opened  his  eyes,  was  dimly  con 
scious  of  a  figure  that  glided  softly  about,  and 
heard  strains  of  music  that  were  a  balm  to  his  spirit. 
But  like  a  weary  child  that  is  too  exhausted  to  gain 
full  possession  of  its  senses,  he  fell  again  into  a  heavy 
slumber  without  speaking.  Finally,  however,  he 
waked  so  thoroughly  that  he  gazed  about  him  in  won 
derment  at  his  surroundings  which  he  utterly  failed  to 
recognize,  looked  appealingly  at  a  figure  seated  near 
his  bedside  and  murmured:  'Where  am  I?  Who 
are  you  ?  " 

At  once  the  figure  arose  and  a  kindly  face  with  sil 
very  hair  and  beard  was  bending  over  him. 

"  You  are  in  my  house.  Do  you  not  know  who  I 
am?" 

"  Yes.  You  are  the  friend  who  saved  my  father 
from  disgrace.  But  how  came  I  here?  What  has 
happened?  " 

"  A  good  deal  has  happened,"  said  the  old  man  with 
a  smile,  "  as  you  would  realize  if  you  tried  to  move 
about  in  your  bed  without  assistance.  No,  no  !  Don't 
try  it!  You  will  hurt  yourself.  That  stab  was  very 
deep.  It  would  have  killed  most  men." 

"Stab?  Have  I  been  stabbed?  Oh,  yes.  I  re 
member  now.  It  all  comes  back  to  me.  I  was  bring- 

362 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         363 

ing  Naarah  home.  I  was  almost  there  when  a  man 
thrust  a  knife  in  my  side.  It  did  sting.  It  bit  worse 
than  the  wounds  I  got  when  I  fought  the  gladiator. 
And  then,  and  then  —  I  don't  seem  to  remember  what 
happened  after  that." 

"  And  then  you  carried  my  granddaughter  to  the 
door  and  fell  down  in  a  dead  faint  just  outside  the 
threshold." 

"  And  had  to  be  put  to  bed  in  your  house?  I  am 
ashamed  to  have  made  so  much  trouble.  You  say  the 
stab  was  deep.  Was  it  so  deep  that  I  must  really  lie 
here  and  trespass  on  your  kindness?  Surely  I  can  be 
carried  home.  I  ought  to  be  under  my  father's  roof 
and  waited  on  by  his  servants." 

"  It  would  be  dangerous  to  move  you.  Whether  it 
is  dangerous  or  not,  here  you  stay  till  you  can  walk 
out  of  my  house  unaided,  well  and  strong.  The  serv 
ice  I  did  your  father  was  poor  indeed  compared  with 
that  which  you  have  rendered  my  child  and  me.  It  is 
our  joy  to  care  for  you  and  bring  you  back  to  health 
and  strength  again." 

"  I  think  I  woke  in  the  night  and  saw  your  grand 
daughter  and  heard  her  singing.  Was  it  really  she?  " 

"  It  was  no  other.  She  will  rejoice  to  know  that 
you  have  come  to  yourself.  I  will  send  for  her." 

Merari  clapped  his  hands  softly  and  the  aged  woman 
Tirzah  at  once  appeared.  Her  master  bade  her  sum 
mon  Naarah,  and  after  a  few  moments  the  girl  entered 
the  room.  She  approached  timidly  and  softly  for  fear 
of  disturbing  the  patient  whom  she  expected  to  find 
sleeping.  A  joyful  expression  came  over  her  face  as 


364         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

she  saw  that  he  was  awake  and  that  he  met  her  own 
look  with  an  answering  one  of  pleasure.  She  came  di 
rectly  to  his  bedside,  bent  over  him  and  said,  as  she 
gently  clasped  his  hand, 

;(  It  is  a  great  joy  to  see  you  so  far  recovered." 

"  It  is  a  great  joy  to  come  to  myself  and  find  you  so 
near  at  hand."  Then,  looking  at  Merari,  he  said, 
"  Yes,  everything  comes  back  to  me  now.  I  remember 
all  that  has  happened." 

"  If  you  remember  all,  you  remember  as  brave  and 
noble  a  deed  as  man  ever  did,"  said  Merari  warmly, 
and  the  look  he  gave  Naarah  showed  how  his  spirit 
would  have  been  broken  if  evil  had  befallen  her.  But 
after  a  few  more  words  had  been  exchanged,  he  begged 
Marcus  to  excuse  him,  as  he  had  reached  a  most  en 
grossing  point  in  his  studies,  and  quietly  left  the  room. 
After  he  had  done  so,  Naarah  seated  herself  by  the 
bedside. 

'  That  was  a  very  deep  scratch,  Marcus,"  she  said 
mischievously.  "  Some  people  would  call  it  a  wound." 

l<  I  am  glad  it  was  as  deep  as  it  was.  If  it  had  been 
nothing  more  than  a  scratch,  I  shouldn't  be  lying  here 
and  you  wouldn't  be  sitting  near  me." 

"  Ah,  but  if  it  had  been  just  a  little  deeper,  you 
wouldn't  be  here  at  all.  It  makes  me  shudder  to  think 
of  it.  How  much  you  have  dared  and  endured  for  my 
sake!  What  am  I  that  a  brave  man  should  risk  his 
life  for  me  and  nearly  give  it  to  save  me?  I  am  an 
alien,  a  Hebrew  maid  whom  your  countrymen  would 
consider  only  fit  to  be  a  slave." 

"  My  countrymen !     My  countrymen !  "  said  Marcus 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         365 

slowly  and  thoughtfully.  "  They  have  much  to  learn. 
After  last  night  I  wonder  if  I  am  proud  of  them  and 
proud  of  being  a  Roman." 

"  After  last  night?  "  queried  Naarah  with  an  amused 
expression.  "  And  so  you  think  it  was  last  night  that 
you  brought  me  home  and  ran  against  the  knife  of  a 
murderous  villain?" 

"  Why,  surely.  It  must  have  been  last  night.  Your 
grandfather  tells  me  that  I  fell  down  in  a  faint  as  soon 
as  I  got  to  your  threshold.  Your  servants  put  me  to 
bed,  I  suppose,  and  I  seem  to  have  slept  through  the 
night,  though  I  remember  waking  once  or  twice.  And 
now  it  is  morning  and  I  have  waked  for  good." 

'  Yes,  it  is  morning  and  I  suppose  you  always  wake 
in  the  morning.  Most  people  do." 

"Of  course.     How  could  I  do  otherwise?" 

"  How  curious  that  you  should  change  the  habit 
here?" 

"  Change  it?     What  do  you  mean?  " 

*  You  have  had  a  long  sleep.  This  is  the  fourth 
morning  since  you  were  hurt  and  fell  unconscious." 

"The  fourth?  Impossible!  What  does  it  all 
mean?" 

"Simply  that  my  grandfather,  who  is  wise  in  the  art 
of  Healing,  gave  you  sleeping  potions  to  keep  you  quiet 
and  prevent  fever." 

"  Ah,  now  I  begin  to  remember,  though  it  is  all  like 
a  dream.  I  waked  a  number  of  times  and  it  was  not 
always  night  when  I  opened  my  eyes.  But  always  I 
saw  someone  here,  and  before  I  fell  asleep  again  I 
heard  singing.  Was  the  someone  you  and  was  it  your 


366         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

voice  that  I  heard?" 

"  It  was  I  that  sang  to  you,  Marcus." 

"  But  I  slept  so  long,  and  you  I  am  sure  were  al 
ways  near.  How  could  you  do  it?  When  did  you 
sleep?" 

'  When  you  were  slumbering  most  soundly.  I  have 
had  sleep  enough." 

"  I  am  sore  troubled;  for,  like  all  of  my  countrymen, 
I  have  thought  ill  of  your  people.  Are  there  many 
of  them  like  your  grandfather  and  yourself?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  will  tell  you  that  if  you  will  answer  my 
own  question.  Are  there  many  Romans  like  you?  " 

"  Not  many  as  big,  it  is  safe  to  say." 

"  And  there  are  not  many  men  of  our  nation  who  are 
as  wise  and  good  as  my  grandfather." 

*  You  have  answered  only  half  of  my  question." 

"  And  not  many  Hebrew  maids  that  go  about  the 
streets  and  get  carried  off  for  their  pains." 

"  And  not  many,  1  venture  to  say,  who  sing  so 
sweetly.  Will  you  not  sing  to  me  again?  " 

"  Whenever  you  wish.     I  dearly  love  to  sing." 

"  Sing  now,  please!  Sing  me  the  song  I  caught 
snatches  of  in  my  moments  of  wakefulness.  I  was 
so  drowsy  that  I  could  not  take  it  in,  but  I  seem  to 
remember  that  it  told  about  sheep  and  green  fields  and 
quiet  streams." 

"  Rather  of  Him  who  made  the  sheep  and  the  green 
fields  and  the  streams.  It  is  one  of  the  hymns  of  my 
people.  It  has  been  sung  by  them  for  a  thousand  years 
in  praise  of  our  God  Jehovah." 

"  Then  you  sang  me  a  Roman  version  of  it,  for  I 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         367 

surely  heard  Roman  words." 

"  Yes,  though  I  sometimes  sang  it  in  Hebrew.  I 
will  sing  it  in  our  own  tongue  now  and  then  I  will  re 
peat  it  in  the  Roman  version  I  have  made." 

Thereupon,  Naarah  took  up  her  harp  which  was  ly 
ing  near  at  hand,  seated  herself  a  little  distance  apart 
and  sang  a  few  strains  that  might  have  sounded  harsh 
to  Marcus  had  they  not  been  softened  by  the  exquisite 
voice  of  the  singer. 

"  It  has  no  meaning  to  me,  of  course,"  said  Marcus, 
"  but  you  make  it  seem  beautiful.  It  makes  me  feel  as 
if  I  were  in  a  temple.  Now  let  me  have  the  Roman 
rendering  so  that  I  may  know  the  thought  that  is  in  it." 

In  the  same  low  sweet  voice  and  with  perfect  modu 
lation  Naarah  sang  a  Roman  version  of  the  Twenty- 
third  Psalm.  Marcus  was  silent  for  a  while  after  she 
had  finished.  Then  he  repeated  softly, 

"  '  I  shall  dwell  in  Jehovah's  house  forever.'  Those 
words  have  a  solemn  restful  sound.  I  don't  under 
stand  the  hymn  at  all,  yet  there  is  that  in  it  that  appeals 
to  me.  It  has  a  true  worshipful  strain  in  it  which  I 
have  never  found  in  the  odes  which  Horace  and  Catul 
lus  wrote  in  praise  of  the  Gods.  You  must  explain 
it  to  me  sometime,  but  not  now.  I  begin  to  feel  tired. 
I  believe  I  am  really  getting  drowsy.  I  don't  see  why 
I  should  be,  but  I  am  and  I  think  I  will  try  to  go  to 
sleep  again." 

'  The  reason  is  not  far  to  seek,  Marcus.  You  have 
been  very  near  that  valley  of  death  I  sang  of.  Most 
men  hurt  as  badly  as  you  were  would  have  passed  down 
into  it.  Sleep  all  you  can.  It  is  what  you  need." 


XXXIII 

THE  following  day  Marcus  saw  his  father  for  a 
short  time.  Agrippa  took  his  son's  hand  in 
his  own  and  looked  at  him  with  an  expression 
of  deep  tenderness  for  some  moments,  but  he  did  not 
try  to  put  his  feeling  into  words.  Then  he  seated  him 
self  by  the  bedside  and  said, 

"  For  a  man  who  has  never  seen  a  battle  you  are  get 
ting  to  be  quite  a  well-seasoned  veteran,  my  son. 
Many  a  soldier  spends  his  life  under  arms  without  re 
ceiving  as  many  wounds  as  you  have  had." 

"  A  wound  in  the  back  is  not  supposed  to  be  credit 
able,  but  I  am  not  ashamed  of  this  one." 

*  You  may  well  be  proud  of  it.  Your  mother  would 
have  been  made  glad  by  what  you  did  had  she  lived  to 
know  of  it.  That's  a  vile  place  that  Euthro  keeps." 

"  Euthro !  The  name  almost  startles  me.  What  of 
him  and  Delphium?  I  have  been  too  weak  to  think 
about  them." 

"  Euthro  has  been  severely  dealt  with.  He  has 
amassed  a  fortune  by  his  odious  doings,  and  I  told  him 
I  would  send  a  whole  century  and  tear  his  house  to 
pieces  unless  he  paid  me  at  once  a  thousand  sestertia. 
He  paid  the  sum,  though  he  groaned  greatly,  and  his 
miserable  den  will  be  well  watched  in  the  future.  I 
would  have  destroyed  it  besides  fining  him  had  it  been 
really  worth  the  while.  But  alas !  evil  doers  will  have 

368 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         369 

their  haunts.  Such  unclean  places  are  as  sure  to  be 
found  in  a  big  city  as  rats  and  vermin.  As  for  Del- 
phium,  her  property  has  all  been  sold  and  the  money 
given  her;  and  she  herself  is  being  taken  by  a  guard  to 
Brundisium  where  she  will  be  put  on  a  vessel  bound  for 
Alexandria.  I  told  her  a  dungeon  would  be  her  fate 
if  she  was  seen  in  Rome  again.  Her  father  goes  with 
her." 

"  Poor  Delphium !  She  sinned  much,  but  I  suppose 
it  was  because  she  loved  much." 

"Loved  much?  How?  Whom?  I  never  knew 
about  it." 

"  And  it  is  best  you  never  should.  It  is  a  sad  story. 
I  hope  she  will  keep  out  of  mischief  now  and  not  make 
trouble  for  herself  or  anyone  else." 

"  I  hope  she  will,  but  I  doubt  it.  What  she  tried 
to  do  to  that  innocent  girl  showed  a  wicked  heart.  But 
I  must  not  tire  you.  I  must  go,  but  I  shall  come  and 
sit  a  moment  with  you  every  day  till  you  are  well." 

This  promise  Agrippa  kept,  and  not  a  day  passed 
that  did  not  bring  Hacho,  both  morning  and  evening, 
to  Merari's  door  to  inquire  after  his  master.  Two  or 
three  days  passed  after  Agrippa's  first  visit  before  it 
was  thought  best  to  bring  the  faithful  servitor  to  the 
bedside,  for  Marcus'  strength  was  easily  exhausted. 
His  face  was  fairly  radiant  when  at  last  he  was  ushered 
in. 

"  You  saved  my  life,  Hacho,"  said  Marcus  as  he 
clasped  his  hand  warmly. 

Hacho's  delight  was  manifest,  but  all  he  could  find 
to  say  was, 


370         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

"  Yes,  master." 

"  And  without  you  I  could  not  have  saved  my 
friend's  granddaughter." 

"  No,  master." 

"  What  can  I  do  to  show  you  how  grateful  I  am?  " 

"  You  have  done  enough.     You  made  me  free." 

"  I  wish  to  do  more.  Is  there  nothing  you  want, 
Hacho?" 

"  Only  to  serve  you,  master." 

"  That  you  shall  do  as  long  as  we  both  live,  and 
never  did  a  man  have  a  more  faithful  servant."  Then 
after  a  pause,  "  And  was  it  really  Gugon  that  tried  to 
kill  me?" 

The  name  seemed  to  rouse  Hacho  and  loosen  his 
tongue. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  excitedly.  "  He  hated  you. 
He  would  have  killed  you  long  ago  if  he  had  not  known 
it  would  make  Delphium  angry  with  him.  But  that 
night  he  saw  that  his  mistress  would  be  as  glad  as  him 
self  to  have  you  put  out  of  the  way.  So  he  made  up 
his  mind  to  do  it.  I  saw  him  steal  out  of  the  hall 
while  you  were  upstairs  and  I  was  waiting  below.  I 
knew  he  meant  mischief,  and  even  if  he  did  not  attack 
you,  some  of  the  other  murderous  fellows  whose  sport 
you  had  spoiled  were  sure  to  do  so.  So  I  followed  you 
and  I  ought  to  have  been  quick  enough  to  stop  that  first 
blow.  I  have  felt  badly  ever  since  that  I  was  so  slow 
and  clumsy." 

;<  If  you  had  not  been  as  quick  as  a  wild  cat,  a  sec 
ond  blow  would  have  followed  the  first.  It  was  dark 
and  the  attack  was  very  sudden." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         371 

"  Ah,  but  he  might  have  killed  you  with  that  one 
stroke,  and  then  I  should  have  been  unhappy  all  my 
life." 

"  He  might  have,  but  he  didn't,  Hacho.  You  saved 
me,  and  I  shall  never  forget  it.  Come  and  see  me 
whenever  you  find  out  anything  in  the  city  which  you 
think  I  should  like  to  hear  about.  And  please  find 
Cethegus  and  tell  him  I  should  like  to  see  him.  He 
has  things  to  say  that  I  want  to  know." 

In  these  early  days  of  his  convalescence,  Marcus 
had  neither  the  strength  nor  the  desire  to  talk  freely. 
Even  to  follow  one  train  of  thought  was  a  weariness. 
But  the  hours  did  not  pass  heavily.  He  was  quite  con 
tent  to  lie  still  day  after  day,  for  Naarah's  presence 
was  an  unspeakable  joy.  She  sang  much  to  him,  some 
times  in  Hebrew,  sometimes  in  his  own  tongue;  and 
the  music  always  cheered  and  refreshed  him.  But  he 
never  asked  to  know  the  meaning  of  the  things  that 
were  sung.  Naarah  had  expected  that  he  would.  The 
Psalm  he  had  listened  to  on  the  day  when  he  first  ral 
lied  had  roused  in  him  a  desire  to  understand  the 
thought.  And  to  have  manifested  the  desire  again 
would  have  been  but  natural.  That  Marcus  was  eager 
to  find  light  has  been  abundantly  shown.  He  had 
turned  from  the  Gods  of  his  own  nation.  The  reli 
gion  of  his  countrymen  repelled  instead  of  attracting 
him.  But  his  mind  was  not  skeptical.  It  did  not  rest 
satisfied  with  casting  off  the  coarse  and  tattered  gar 
ment  of  belief  which  so  many  Romans  of  his  day  and 
time  contentedly  wore.  He  longed  to  don  one  which 
would  be  an  unfailing  protection  against  the  chilling 


372         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

breezes  of  doubt  and  negation. 

But  he  was  too  weak  to  grapple  with  soul-stirring 
questions.  He  was  too  deeply  and  too  ardently  in  love 
to  give  them  consideration.  It  was  not  his  spiritual 
yearnings  that  now  craved  satisfaction.  Strongly  af 
fectionate  by  nature,  he  found  the  sweet  presence  of 
Naarah  was  like  a  flood  of  sunshine  after  dark  and 
stormy  days.  For  even  the  imperious  promptings  he 
had  felt  to  a  life  of  action  had  not  quieted  the  hunger 
of  his  heart.  If  his  thoughts  had  turned  ever  to  the 
soldier's  career  of  tumult  and  alarms,  they  had  often 
centered  also  on  the  joys  of  a  happy  restful  home. 
Delphium  had  truly  told  him  he  was  no  Hannibal. 
The  camp  would  in  the  end  have  been  nothing  better 
than  an  exile.  Conquest  would  have  gratified  ambi 
tion.  Yet  ambition,  however  fully  gratified,  would 
have  left  the  better  part  of  him  starved. 

All  this  Naarah  understood;  yet  she  understood  it 
like  one  who  sees  the  trees  reflected  in  a  stream  that  is 
ruffled  by  a  breeze.  Her  woman's  intuition  told  her 
that  Marcus  cared  for  her  deeply,  though  no  words  of 
love  had  passed  between  them.  But  a  woman's  intui 
tion  is  limited  by  her  very  purity  and  unselfishness.  It 
was  Naarah's  own  maidenly  modesty  that  pre 
vented  her  from  realizing  the  depth  and  intensity  of 
Marcus'  feeling.  She  had  given  him  an  affection  as 
strong  as  was  his  own  for  her;  but  she  had  given  it  in 
a  woman's  way  and  the  very  fineness  of  her  nature  bade 
her  keep  it  repressed  and  concealed.  Marcus  on  the 
other  hand  had  the  man's  delight  in  the  intensely  per 
sonal  character  of  his  feeling  and  the  man's  eagerness 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         373 

to  give  it  expression.  He  therefore  listened  with  rap 
ture  to  the  words  she  said  and  the  hymns  she  sang 
because  it  was  she  who  talked  and  sang  to  him.  And 
the  appreciation  he  manifested  took  a  form  that  was 
a  little  unexpected  and  as  disappointing  to  her  desire 
for  serious  intercourse  as  it  was  gratifying  to  her  ar 
dent  but  hidden  feelings. 

"  That  hymn  is  beautiful,"  said  Marcus  one  day 
after  she  had  sung  or  chanted  one  of  the  Hebrew 
Psalms  to  him  in  a  Roman  version.  "  I  don't  under 
stand  it  at  all,  but  it  is  beautiful  just  because  it  was 
you  that  sang  it." 

"  But  my  singing  has  nothing  to  do  with  its  deep 
and  holy  meaning.  That  would  be  the  same  whoever 
sang  it." 

"  Ah,  but  not  the  same  to  me,  Naarah." 

"  I  am  almost  sorry  to  hear  you  say  so.  Oughtn't 
it  to  be  the  same,  Marcus?  " 

"  No,  surely  not.  When  a  child  is  sick  and  weary, 
does  it  make  no  difference  whether  it  is  his  mother  or 
some  strange  woman  who  sings  him  to  sleep?  " 

"  And  yet  I  am  almost  a  stranger.  Till  a  few  days 
ago  we  had  never  exchanged  words  but  once." 

"  A  stranger?  Don't  say  that.  Time  does  not 
count  in  such  things.  Two  who  have  lived  side  by 
side  for  years  may  be  strangers.  Two  who  were  born 
to  know  and  understand  each  other  may  do  so  in  an 
hour." 

u  But  I  am  of  an  alien  race.  I  have  inherited  dif 
ferent  traditions  from  your  own.  I  have  a  different, 
oh,  such  a  very  different  faith!  And  when  I  sing  to 


374         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

you  the  hymns  that  have  given  comfort  to  my  people, 
you  do  not  understand  them.  You  do  not  even  seem  to 
care  to  understand  them." 

"  I  am  weak  and  tired,  Naarah." 

"  Yes,  and  how  weak  and  tired  you  are,  perhaps  I 
realize  even  better  than  you  do  yourself.  Yet  the  first 
time  I  sang  to  you,  you  thought  that  when  your  mind 
was  not  too  weary  you  would  like  to  know  the  meaning 
that  is  in  the  words." 

"  So  I  should  —  some  time  when  my  mind  is  not  too 
weary." 

"  Of  course  I  should  not  wish  to  fatigue  you  by  ex 
plaining  things  that  were  strange  and  perplexing." 

"  Explain !  Explain  by  all  means !  I  shall  love  to 
listen  to  your  voice." 

"  But  not  to  the  words  it  utters.  Ah,  Marcus,  you 
would  never  make  a  schemer.  You  are  too  frank  and 
honest  to  cover  the  ways  of  your  mind." 

'  Very  well.  I  confess  it.  I  love  to  hear  your 
voice  because  it  is  yours.  Talk  to  me  then.  Talk  to 
me  about  anything  you  would  like  to  tell  me." 

"  And  find  my  satisfaction  in  knowing  that  you  hear 
my  voice  but  do  not  take  in  a  single  word  I  say?  No, 
no !  I  won't  waste  my  breath  on  such  a  listener.  A 
mind  that  is  so  empty  should  not  be  put  to  even  the 
smallest  strain.  It  needs  a  visitor  who  will  come,  I  am 
sure,  almost  the  very  moment  I  have  left  the  room,  and 
that  is  Sleep." 


XXXIV 

SOME  three  or  four  days  after  Marcus  began  to 
see  visitors  Cethegus  appeared.  He  came  in  re 
sponse  to  the  message  he  had  received  from 
Hacho,  a  message  that  he  obeyed  with  all  possible  ce 
lerity  for  more  reasons  than  one.  He  was  full  of 
curiosity  to  see  and  talk  with  a  man  whose  name  was 
on  everyone's  lips  and  who  had  nearly  met  his  death 
in  doing  what  hardly  another  man  in  Rome  would  have 
attempted  to  do  without  a  century  of  soldiers  at  his 
back.  But  he  was  influenced  also  by  two  other  mo 
tives  :  he  wished  to  vindicate  his  own  conduct,  and  he 
wished  to  see  for  himself  whether  Marcus'  relations 
with  the  fair  alien  girl  were  such  as  to  encourage  his 
own  hope  of  winning  Julia. 

He  was  therefore  openly  frank  and  secretly  circum 
spect  as  he  seated  himself  at  Marcus'  bedside.  Naarah 
was  of  course  not  present  when  he  entered  the  chamber, 
but  he  thought  he  might  see  her  or  hear  from  Marcus 
some  expression  about  her  before  he  went  away.  And 
so  the  two  began  a  conversation  that  was  like  a  fencing 
match,  wherein  one  of  the  contestants  uses  his  foil  for 
pure  enjoyment  and  is  perfectly  indifferent  as  to  results, 
while  the  other  has  a  wager  on  the  issue  and  is  watch 
ing  intently  for  every  chance  to  score. 

"  Cethegus,"  said  Marcus  after  they  had  greeted 
cordially  and  Cethegus  had  made  the  natural  inquiries 

375 


376         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

after  Marcus'  condition,  "  how  came  you  to  be  where 
you  were  that  night  at  Euthro's?  " 

"How  came  you  to  be  where  you  were,  Marcus? 
What  brought  you  there  at  all?  " 

"  Oh,  that  fell  out  most  naturally.  Eliud  Merari, 
whose  granddaughter  it  was  that  you  saw  so  shame 
fully  used  there,  was  an  old  acquaintance  of  my  fath 
er's.  So  he  went  to  my  father  at  once  as  soon  as 
the  people  who  carried  him  off  let  him  go  free." 

"  But  to  go  to  such  a  place  as  Euthro's  with  only 
one  man  to  back  you!  A  reckless  proceeding!  Why 
didn't  you  wait  and  bring  a  troop  of  veterans?  " 

"  The  things  that  happened  answer  that  question. 
I  was  only  just  in  time,  as  it  was;  and  Hacho  and  I 
ran  all  the  way  as  we  never  ran  before." 

To  himself  Cethegus  said  that  a  man  in  such  des 
perate  haste  must  be  in  love.  Was  the  Hebrew  maiden 
also  in  love  with  him? 

"  Yes,  you  were  only  just  in  time,  but  with  a  man 
less  stalwart  than  Hacho  to  help  you  your  arrival  at 
the  time  you  did  would  have  meant  nothing.  Why, 
you  couldn't  even  have  got  inside." 

"  When  the  need  is  desperate,  one  has  to  take 
chances  and  be  ready  for  the  unexpected.  But  tell  me 
now,  did  you  and  Milo  and  the  rest  have  any  idea 
what  you  were  going  to  see  that  night  at  Euthro's?  " 

"  No !  We  are  not  so  bad  as  that.  As  you  know, 
not  all  the  sights  at  Euthro's  are  indecent.  Delphium 
had  made  us  all  think  that  you  had  used  her  badly 
and  that  she  was  going  to  show  you  and  us  that  she 
was  better  than  you  thought  her  to  be.  But  we  were 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         377 

dismayed  and  astounded  when  we  saw  that  poor  girl 
used  so  outrageously,  and  the  appeal  for  help  she  made 
stirred  everyone  of  us.  Whether  we  could  have  done 
anything  to  help  her,  I  do  not  know.  We  had  indeed 
no  time  to  think  about  it  or  take  any  steps  in  her 
behalf.  Hardly  had  that  appealing  cry  for  succor 
passed  her  lips  when  Hacho's  crashing  blows  made 
the  whole  building  quiver." 

"  I  was  sure  you  and  the  others  did  not  lend  your 
selves  to  anything  you  knew  to  be  vicious;  but  what 
a  shrewd  lot  you  were  to  be  so  taken  in  by  a  woman 
like  Delphium!  " 

'  Were  you  never  taken  in  by  her,  Marcus?  " 

"  A  home  thrust,"  answered  Marcus  with  a  slightly 
crestfallen  air.  "  I  may  as  well  admit  that  I  was  long 
in  finding  out  how  false  she  was  and  how  capable  of 
double  dealing." 

"  Double  dealing?  Her  double  dealing  was  the 
least  of  her  offenses.  It  was  her  spite,  her  fierce  ha 
tred,  her  love  of  revenge,  that  made  her  so  vile. 
What  in  the  world,"  Cethegus  went  on  to  say  with  ap 
parent  innocence,  "  made  her  so  cruel  and  vindictive 
toward  that  beautiful  girl?  " 

Marcus  grew  grave  and  did  not  reply  at  once.  His 
reticence,  however,  was  understood.  Cethegus,  appar 
ently  gazing  about  the  room  in  an  indifferent  manner, 
was  yet  noting  carefully  the  expression  upon  Marcus' 
face  and  did  not  fail  to  discern  that  he  was  slightly 
confused  by  the  sudden  and  unexpected  question. 
With  his  native  quickness  he  saw  clearly  now  what  he 
had  strongly  suspected,  that  Delphium  had  been  in 


378         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

love  with  Marcus,  had  discovered  Marcus'  affection 
for  the  beautiful  Hebrew  and  had  tried  to  disgrace 
and  perhaps  ruin  her  in  order  to  hurt  the  man  whose 
heart  she  had  won.  He  was  intensely  curious  to  find 
out  all  that  had  passed  between  Delphium  and  Mar 
cus,  but  he  saw  that  he  should  only  arouse  suspicion  if 
he  tried  to  draw  Marcus  out  on  such  a  private  and  per 
sonal  matter  by  subtly  designed  questions.  So  he 
waited  with  indifference  for  Marcus'  answer,  know 
ing  that  it  would  tell  nothing  and  thinking  to  him 
self  that  Delphium's  hate  would  not  have  been  so 
deadly  if  she  had  not  been  sure  that  the  affection  she 
had  vainly  tried  to  arouse  was  given  unreservedly  to 
her  rival. 

"  Delphium,"  said  Marcus  after  a  brief  silence, 
"  has  been  banished,  my  father  tells  me.  Let  us  dis 
miss  her  and  her  doings  from  our  thoughts.  I  know 
more  about  her  than  I  have  any  right  to  tell.  Let  us 
hope  that  she  has  been  taught  a  lesson  and  that  she  will 
be  more  decent  and  less  vicious  wherever  she  may  go. 
But  how  were  you  able  to  thwart  her  as  you  did  that 
night?  Merari's  granddaughter  would  have  lost  her 
life  but  for  you." 

'  That  I  should,"  said  Naarah,  who  had  just  ap 
peared  at  the  doorway  with  Merari.  "  I  have  asked 
my  grandfather  to  come  with  me  here  that  he  might 
meet  the  man  who  did  me  such  a  timely  service  and 
that  I  might  again  express  to  him  my  own  gratitude 
and  appreciation.  And  now  that  we  are  here,  we 
should  both  be  glad  to  hear  this  story.  No  one  else 
could  possibly  be  as  much  interested  in  it." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         379 

"  Yes,"  said  Merari  very  warmly,  "  all  the  courage 
and  resolution  of  my  wounded  friend  here  would  have 
availed  nothing  but  for  you.  Nay,  I  must  not  say  it 
would  have  availed  nothing,  for  death  is  better  than 
disgrace.  But  death  were  a  sad  fate  for  one  so  young 
and  full  of  hope,  and  it  would  have  meant  the  death  of 
two;  for  my  own  would  quickly  have  followed  that  of 
my  beloved  child.  So  let  me  add  my  own  heartfelt 
thanks  to  hers.  You,  a  Roman,  could  hardly  stand 
in  need  of  the  help  of  an  alien  like  myself.  Yet  I 
once  did  Lucius  Agrippa  a  service  he  has  not  forgotten. 
Could  I  ever  render  you  one,  it  would  be  given  with 
all  my  heart.  But  let  us  hear  your  story.  I  am  all 
eagerness  to  know  how  you  found  it  possible  to  give 
such  prompt  and  effective  assistance." 

"  I  count  it  a  great  piece  of  good  fortune  that  it 
fell  to  me  to  do  what  I  did,  for  I  have  not  the  big 
body  and  the  love  of  battle  of  our  friend  Marcus  and 
I  am  not  likely  to  accomplish  anything  like  this  again. 
Hence,  to  have  done  the  deed  is  in  itself  a  profound 
satisfaction,  though  I  value  much  your  kind  expres 
sions  of  gratitude.  It  came  about  in  this  way. 

'  When  your  friends,  Marcus,  went  forward  to 
stand  by  you  and  be  slaughtered  if  necessary,  I  did  not 
go  with  them.  I  was  not  utterly  unwilling  to  be 
slaughtered.  Still,  I  preferred  not  to  be.  There  were 
not  enough  of  us  to  check  that  crew  of  dirty  knaves, 
and  I  objected  quite  seriously  to  being  killed  by  such 
a  filthy  pack  in  such  a  filthy  place.  If  worst  came  to 
worst,  I  meant  to  offer  my  own  personal  contribution 
to  the  small  pile  of  corpses  that  was  apparently  to  be 


380         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

accumulated.  It  was  far  from  my  thought  to  save  my 
own  skin  if  all  my  friends  were  butchered.  But  be 
fore  I  went  forward  like  a  lamb  to  the  sacrifice,  I  con 
sidered  it  well  to  look  around  and  see  whether  there 
was  no  possible  means  of  foiling  the  scoundrels  that  a 
ready  wit  might  contrive.  It  has  always  been  a  favor 
ite  theory  of  mine  that  men  fight  too  much  with  their 
bodies  and  too  little  with  their  brains.,  If  I  were  a 
general,  I  should  plan  to  make  the  enemy  walk  into 
an  ambush  and  then  dictate  terms  to  them  without  any 
horrid  butchery.  That  wily  old  Samnite,  Pontius,  was 
a  warrior  after  my  own  heart. 

"  Well,  while  I  was  holding  back  and  trying  to  hit 
upon  a  scheme  of  deliverance,  our  good  friend  Hacho 
was  warring  upon  the  enemy  in  his  own  effective  and 
original  fashion,  and  I  saw  that  there  was  to  be  no 
massacre  and  no  need  of  going  forward  at  all." 

"  Oh,  do  tell  me  what  Hacho  did!  "  exclaimed  Naa- 
rah.  "  I  know  he  battered  down  the  door.  He  is  a 
giant,  but  how  could  he  defeat  so  many?  " 

"  Hacho,"  continued  Cethegus  gravely,  u  is  also  a 
great  strategist,  like  Pontius  and  Hannibal.  His 
method  might  roughly  be  compared  to  that  which  the 
inventive  Carthaginian  adopted  when  he  bewildered 
our  own  forces  by  means  of  the  drove  of  oxen  with 
lighted  fagots  tied  to  their  horns.  Hacho  too  over 
powers  his  enemies  by  startling  them  and  depriving 
them  of  self-possession  and  courage.  But  the  details 
are  a  little  gruesome,  my  lady,  and  would  best  not  be 
stated  here.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  he  disconcerted  the 
assailing  crew  quite  effectually  and  freed  me  from  the 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         381 

necessity  of  being  immolated  on  the  bodies  of  my 
friends. 

"  So  I  remained  where  I  was  and  watched  to  see  what 
would  take  place.  A  moment  later  Delphium  was  re 
leased  by  you  and  came  in  my  direction.  I  was  sus 
picious  of  her  from  the  moment  she  darted  away  from 
you.  There  was  a  decision  in  all  her  movements  that 
convinced  me  she  was  acting  with  a  purpose  and  an  evil 
one.  I  was  all  the  more  sure  of  it  when  she  repeated 
so  emphatically  her  directions  to  Euthro  to  take  you 
by  the  broad  stairway.  So  I  determined  to  note  every 
thing  she  did.  Without  her  knowing  it,  I  got  close  to 
her  and  I  saw  a  desperate  look  on  her  face  and  a  wicked 
gleam  in  her  eye.  For  there  was  light  enough  in  the 
hall  to  show  this. 

'  The  instant  you  and  Euthro  were  out  of  the  hall 
she  darted  stealthily  through  a  door  that  was  near  and 
closed  it  after  her  without  making  any  noise.  As  si 
lently  I  opened  it,  passed  through,  and  also  closed 
it  behind  me.  All  were  so  bent  on  watching  you  and 
Euthro,  and  Hacho  too  I  should  add,  that  what  Del 
phium  and  I  were  doing  escaped  notice.  I  now  found 
myself  in  pitch  darkness,  for  I  was  in  an  unlighted 
passageway.  But  as  I  had  entered  it  the  light  that 
came  in  from  the  hall  gave  me  a  momentary  glimpse 
of  Delphium  disappearing  through  a  door  just  three 
paces  away.  Quickly  though  I  closed  the  hall  door 
behind  me,  the  gleam  of  light  that  had  been  admitted 
disconcerted  her  and  made  her  pause  for  an  instant. 
*  Who's  there?  '  she  asked  in  a  loud  whisper.  I  made 
no  answer.  Disturbed  though  she  was,  she  could  not 


382         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

pause  to  investigate;  for  the  delay  of  even  a  few  mo 
ments  would  have  been  fatal  to  her  purpose.  Hear 
ing  no  answer,  she  went  quickly  on,  leaving  the  door 
open,  in  order,  doubtless,  to  facilitate  her  return  after 
she  had  accomplished  what  she  had  in  mind.  The 
instant  I  heard  her  steps  again  I  darted  to  the  door 
and  by  groping  in  the  darkness  quickly  ascertained  that 
it  was,  as  I  had  supposed,  at  the  foot  of  a  stairway. 
It  was  a  winding  stairway,  and  up  it  I  went  as  fast  as 
I  could  go  without  making  my  footsteps  betray  my 
presence.  The  stairs  were  of  brick  or  stone  and  there 
fore  did  not  creak.  At  the  head  of  the  stairway  I 
found  another  open  door  which  I  passed  through.  I 
was  now  in  a  room  that  had  a  window,  and  in  the  very 
dim  light  which  it  admitted  I  could  just  make  out  the 
figure  of  a  woman  crouching  forward  just  in  front  of 
me.  Evidently  she  was  getting  her  bearings,  and  it 
was  the  moment  Delphium  spent  in  doing  this  that 
defeated  her  purpose.  That  moment  had  given  me 
time  to  overtake  her  before  she  struck  the  blow  she 
planned. 

"  I  had  barely  time  to  discern  the  outlines  of  the 
form  before  me  when  it  started  forward  with  noiseless 
tread.  What  this  catlike  movement  signified  I  could 
not  tell;  but  the  very  stillness  of  it  made  me  sure  that 
it  meant  mischief.  So  after  the  crouching  figure  I  tip 
toed  with  equally  noiseless  step.  The  figure  halted, 
leaned  forward  and  drew  back  an  arm.  I  caught  the 
faint  glitter  of  steel.  I  seized  the  arm.  A  knife  fell 
upon  the  floor.  Then  a  figure  became  visible  which 
I  had  not  been  able  to  see  before;  and  I  did  not  need 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         383 

the  light  of  lanterns  and  torches  to  show  me  that  Del- 
phium  had  been  trying  to  murder  the  unhappy  girl  I 
had  seen  tormented  down  stairs  and  that  I  had  for 
tunately  been  able  to  foil  her  wicked  scheme." 

"  I  tremble  even  now  as  I  think  of  it,"  said  Merari 
as  Cethegus  ceased  to  speak.  "  You  call  it  good  for 
tune  that  you  were  able  to  stay  that  murderous  hand. 
I  see  more  than  good  fortune  in  it.  I  see  the  evidence 
of  a  keen,  quickly  discerning  mind,  of  resolution  and 
generous  feeling.  But  more  than  all  I  see  the  mercy 
of  our  fathers'  God,  Jehovah,  through  whose  loving- 
kindness  it  was  that  my  child  was  preserved  to  me  and 
that  I  was  not  left  desolate  as  Rachel  was  in  my  declin 
ing  years." 

"  I  would  not  dispute  you,  sir.  I  do  not  know  your 
God,  Jehovah,  nor  what  He  is  able  to  do.  But  it  oc 
curs  to  me  that  if  it  was  He  who  protected  your  grand 
daughter  on  that  evil  night,  He  must  have  a  remarkable 
faculty  of  seeing  ahead  and  must  have  had  this  matter 
in  His  mind  a  long  time  ago.  If  you  had  not  known 
Agrippa,  the  Prefect,  and  gone  to  him  as  soon  as  you 
were  free,  neither  Marcus  nor  I  could  have  done  any 
thing  to  save  your  granddaughter." 

"  Peace,  young  man!  Do  not  mar  your  noble  deed 
by  scoffing!  It  was  Jehovah  and  none  else  who  put 
it  in  my  heart  long  years  since  to  do  an  act  of  kindness 
to  Lucius  Agrippa.  When  He  did  this,  He  who  created 
the  ends  of  the  earth,  who  fainteth  not  neither  is  weary, 
knew  well  that  I  was  casting  bread  upon  the  waters 
and  that  I  should  find  it  after  many  days." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  am  very  glad  you  have  found  it  and 


384         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

that  I  had  a  hand  in  the  making  of  it.  On  the  whole, 
it  seems  to  me  about  the  best  piece  of  bread  I  ever 
helped  to  get  out  of  the  oven,  and  I  shall  felicitate 
myself  on  the  share  I  had  in  the  handling  of  it.  I  fear 
I  shall  not  make  any  more  that  is  equally  good.  And 
with  all  due  respect  to  your  Jehovah,  sir,  for  I  would 
by  no  means  scoff  at  a  belief  that  is  sacred  to  you,  I 
consider  myself  very  lucky  to  have  helped  on  that  oc 
casion  to  make  a  piece  of  good  bread  instead  of  some 
thing  that  would  turn  the  stomach.  A  man  can  not  go 
to  such  a  vile  place  as  Euthro's  and  count  on  finding  a 
rare  opportunity  to  do  another  a  good  turn.  So  I 
think  I  will  let  haunts  of  that  kind  alone  in  future. 
Once  more,  sir,  I  must  express  to  you  and  to  your 
granddaughter  the  pleasure  I  had  in  being  of  service. 
And  now  I  must  take  my  leave.  Command  me,  Mar 
cus,  if  I  can  do  anything  for  you." 

"  Ah,  my  good  friend,"  said  Merari  as  Cethegus 
was  departing,  "  it  is  again  the  hand  of  Jehovah  that 
has  wrought  what  you  call  luck  and  chance.  It  was 
He  who  put  it  in  your  heart  to  go  to  that  evil  place  in 
order  that  He  might  use  you  for  His  own  purposes  and 
might  at  the  same  time  turn  you  from  ways  wherein 
men  may  not  walk  without  falling." 

As  Cethegus  went  away,  he  felt  a  deeper  satisfac 
tion  in  his  heart  than  the  consciousness  of  his  great 
service  to  Merari  and  Naarah  had  given  him.  Appar 
ently  demure,  he  had  kept  a  close  eye  upon  Naarah 
from  the  moment  she  had  entered  the  room;  and  the 
solicitude  she  had  in  manifold  ways  shown  over  Mar 
cus  made  him  sure  that  her  heart  was  touched.  But 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         385 

would  Marcus  marry  a  Hebrew?  Would  his  father 
ever  consent  to  it?  This  he  would  have  doubted  had 
the  man  been  anyone  but  Marcus.  Before  that  in 
domitable  will,  however,  race  pride  and  race  prejudice 
would  fall  as  the  grain  falls  before  the  sickle.  "  Julia 
is  mine,"  he  said  to  himself  exultantly.  But  love  cur 
rents  often  disclose  rocks  and  shoals  which  the  con 
fident  lover  does  not  anticipate. 


XXXV 

THE  day  after  Cethegus'  visit  Naarah  took  her 
post  at  Marcus'  bedside  as  usual  to  minister  to 
his  wants  and  help  either  to  amuse  him  or  en 
courage  him  to  sleep  when  he  became  too  tired  to  talk 
or  listen.  He  was  still  very  weak.  He  was  not  left 
alone  long  at  a  time.  That  she  should  be  the  one  to 
nurse  him  till  he  was  well  on  toward  recovery  seemed 
to  the  generous  and  warm-hearted  girl  the  only  thing 
possible.  He  had  saved  her  from  a  fate  so  terrible 
that  she  could  not  let  her  mind  dwell  upon  it  even 
for  an  instant.  He  had  nearly  given  up  his  life  in 
doing  it.  To  help  in  giving  the  life  back  to  the  world 
that  needed  it,  to  make  the  hours  of  languishing  pass 
pleasantly  was  a  deep  delight  to  her. 

Usually  she  was  quiet  when  she  was  near  him.  She 
had  a  happy  feeling  that  her  presence  comforted  and 
soothed  him.  This  day,  however,  she  found  him  rest 
less.  She  talked  to  him,  but  he  was  not  responsive. 
She  sang  to  him,  but  she  saw  that  he  did  not  half  listen. 
When  the  song  was  finished,  he  looked  at  her  ear 
nestly  and  said, 

"  Pray  sit  closer,  Naarah.  There  is  something  I 
would  say  to  you." 

"  I  am  listening,  Marcus.  I  can  hear  everything 
you  say." 

386 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         387 

"  But  I  want  you  very  near.  I  am  hurt  and  help 
less  and  I  must  have  my  way.  I  can  not  draw  nearer 
to  you,  so  you  must  come  to  me." 

Naarah  sat  in  silence  for  a  moment;  then  she  grati 
fied  the  wish,  though  she  did  not  meet  the  eager  plead 
ing  look  that  was  fixed  upon  her.  A  pleasantry  half 
shaped  itself  in  her  mind,  but  there  was  that  in 
Marcus1  manner  that  forbade  her  to  utter  it  and  she 
did  not  speak.  But  she  did  not  resist  him  when  he 
took  her  hand  and  clasped  it  gently  in  both  of  his 
own  and  held  it  to  his  breast,  though  her  heart  began 
to  beat  quickly  and  the  color  rushed  into  her  face. 

"  Naarah,"  Marcus  began,  "  I  can  not  give  my  mind 
to  the  hymns  you  sing  to  me.  I  can  not  measure  or 
take  in  the  thoughts  that  are  in  them.  The  language 
and  the  imagery  are  strange.  They  are  too  strange 
to  be  comprehended  by  a  man  who  is  hardly  yet  fully 
released  from  the  icy  grasp  of  death.  But  some  time 
I  feel  sure  that  the  faith  of  your  people  will  be  my 
faith  too.  That  which  is  the  truth  to  your  mind  will 
seem  so  to  my  own.  Almost  now  do  I  see  a  light  that 
I  have  never  seen  before,  a  light  that  makes  me  feel 
I  have  been  walking  in  darkness  all  my  days.  But  it 
goes  almost  as  soon  as  it  comes.  I  shall  have  to  be 
stronger  before  I  can  open  my  eyes  to  it.  I  am  too 
weak  to  let  my  mind  dwell  long  on  anything  now.  I 
can't  think.  I  can  only  feel.  And  there  is  just  one 
thing  that  I  feel,  and  that  is,  love  for  you,  Naarah  — 
as  deep  and  tender  a  love  as  a  man  ever  felt  for  a 
woman.  I  feel  it  all  the  time.  When  I  lie  here  alone, 
when  you  are  by  me,  when  I  go  to  sleep,  when  I  wake 


3 88         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

in  the  morning,  you  are  in  my  thoughts  and  only  you. 
Oh,  Naarah!  dearest,  beloved  Naarah,  speak  to  me 
and  tell  me  that  you  care  for  me.  I  have  given  you 
all  my  heart  and  I  must  have  your  love.  I  could  not 
live  without  it  now." 

There  was  joy  in  Naarah's  face  as  Marcus  revealed 
the  depth  and  intensity  of  his  passion;  yet  it  was  with 
a  troubled  look  that  she  answered  very  softly, 

"  Marcus,  have  you  forgotten  that  I  am  a  Hebrew 
maid?" 

"  I  have  not  forgotten,  yet  why  should  I  think  of 
it?  What  has  that  to  do  with  our  loving  each  other?  " 

"  It  could  not  prevent  us  from  loving  each  other — " 

"  And  it  does  not  prevent  it?  You  really  do  love 
me,  Naarah?  " 

"  Yes,  Marcus,  I  love  you.  That  you  have  a  right 
to  know.  But — " 

"  That  is  enough.  That  is  all  I  want  to  know.  If 
you  love  me  I  am  happy.  Oh,  yes,  I  am  the  happiest 
man  in  all  the  world." 

Marcus  pressed  to  his  lips  the  hand  which  Naarah 
had  not  withdrawn  and  looked  at  her  ardently.  An 
answering  glance  of  love  would  have  lifted  him  into 
a  very  ecstasy  of  joy.  But  the  glance  did  not  come 
and  the  troubled  look  did  not  leave  Naarah's  face. 

(  That  you  love  me,  Marcus,  makes  me  happy  too," 
she  said  in  the  same  low  quiet  tones  after  a  moment's 
pause,  "  and  yet  I  can  not  give  myself  up  to  the  feeling 
as  you  do.  I  can  not  find  unmixed  delight  and  satis 
faction  in  it.  For,  alas  I  I  am  sure  you  ought  not 
to  love  me.  I  am  sure  unhappiness  will  come  to  you 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         389 

from  it  in  the  end." 

"Never!  It  must  not.  It  could  not.  Why 
should  you  think  that  it  would?  " 

"  Your  father,  your  Emperor,  the  men  of  power 
and  station  who  would  help  to  make  you  great  —  what 
would  they  think  of  your  ...  of  your  .  .  ." 

Naarah  flushed  and  Marcus  said  the  words  she  could 
not  utter. 

"Of  my  marrying  a  Hebrew  girl?  They  could 
think  only  one  thing  when  they  saw  her  —  that  I  was 
the  most  fortunate  man  in  all  the  world." 

"  You  speak  from  your  heart,  Marcus,  not  from 
knowledge,  not  from  prudence.  For  you  know  that 
no  Roman  could  obtain  advancement  if  he  married  a 
woman  of  my  nation." 

u  I  know  nothing  of  the  kind.  The  prejudice  ex 
ists.  I  can  not  deny  it.  But  it  must  be  faced.  It 
must  be  overcome.  Yes,  and  it  shall  be  overcome. 
With  you  at  my  side  I  will  win  all  the  honor  which  the 
world  has  to  give  me,  all  that  it  is  in  me  to  win." 

'  You  would  try.  You  would  try  with  all  your 
heart  and  soul.  I  fear  though  you  would  only  meet 
with  failure  and  discouragement.  But  we  must  not 
dwell  on  this.  It  excites  you  and  uses  up  the  strength 
you  have  had  such  hard  work  to  gain.  We  must  be 
cheerful  and  not  talk  of  dark  things  that  are  to  come." 

'  No,  we  will  think  and  talk  of  the  love  we  have 
for  each  other  and  of  nothing  but  that.  Never  mind 
the  future!  I  am  sure  we  shall  find  a  way  to  make 
it  bright.  Why,  it  can  not  help  being  bright.  Is  not 
our  love  enough  to  make  the  whole  world  full  of  sun- 


390         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

shine  for  us?  " 

"  Your  love  would  make  it  all  sunshine  for  me,  Mar 


cus." 


"  And  no  clouds  could  linger  in  my  sky  while  you 
shared  everything  with  me.  So  let  us  delight  in  our 
love  and  in  the  happiness  it  brings.  And  the  happi 
ness  is  so  great!  Why,  it  is  almost  like  a  pain  to  be 
so  happy.  Do  all  that  love  feel  as  I  do?  Do  you 
feel  so,  I  wonder?  No,  how  foolish  of  me  to  think 
it!  You  couldn't  love  me  as  much  as  I  do  you.  That 
wouldn't  be  possible." 

'  Very  strange  things  are  sometimes  possible,  Mar 
cus,"  said  Naarah  very  demurely. 

"  Then  you  do  love  me  as  I  do  you?  Can  it  really 
be?  How  wonderful!  How  did  it  ever  come  about? 
I  couldn't  help  loving  you,  of  course.  You  are  so 
beautiful,  so  unselfish,  so  full  of  fine,  delicate,  maidenly 
feeling—" 

Just  here  a  soft  hand  was  placed  over  Marcus'  lips, 
and  Naarah  with  a  ripple  of  laughter  took  the  words 
out  of  his  mouth. 

'  The  list  is  quite  long  enough,  Marcus.  Do  not 
add  to  it;  for  then,  you  know,  I  should  have  to  make 
one  equally  long  for  you,  and  that  might  be  just  a  little 
embarrassing.  Let  me  see  now  what  can  be  said  of 
you!  You  are  very  daring  and  very  big  and  strong, 
and  —  and  —  you  love  a  maid  who  isn't  the  least  bit 
worthy  of  you,  and  that  makes  you  seem  to  her  the 
most  foolish  and  the  most  perfect  man  in  all  the 
world." 

"  Not  worthy  of  me?     Oh,  Naarah,  how  absurd! 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         391 

Why,  I  have  carried  you  in  my  thought  ever  since 
you  spoke  to  me  that  first  time,  and  I  have  really  wor 
shiped  you  in  my  heart,  though  I  did  not  understand 
it  all  till  I  found  you  at  Euthro's  and  knew  that  life 
would  have  been  a  long  agony  for  me  if  I  had  come 
too  late." 

"  Did  you  care  as  much  as  that?  " 

"  Yes,  I  cared  as  much  as  that;  but  it  was  only  when 
we  came  together  again  so  strangely  that  I  read  my 
own  heart  aright.  Before  that  I  had  thought  that  I 
was  simply  admiring  an  image  of  womanly  purity  and 
goodness,  very  much  as  I  cherished  and  loved  the  mem 
ory  of  my  mother.  But  when  I  saw  you  lying  on  the 
floor  of  that  dreadful  chamber,  I  knew  it  was  you  and 
you  only  that  I  loved,  and  that  I  could  never  love  any 
one  else  as  long  as  I  lived." 

;c  I  am  glad  you  found  it  out,  Marcus,"  came  Naa- 
rah's  answer  in  the  same  demure  and  gentle  tones. 

"Glad?  Oh,  it  isn't  gladness.  It  is  rapture.  It 
is  such  joy  as  makes  life  seem  a  new  thing.  Why,  I 
have  only  just  begun  to  live,  Naarah.  I  never  knew 
what  living  was  before.  But  tell  me,  how  came  you 
ever  to  care  for  me?  Have  you  cared  for  me  long? 
Have  you  cared  for  me  ever  since  you  first  saw  me? 
No,  no !  That  could  not  really  be." 

'  There  are  places  in  a  maid's  heart,  sir,  which  she 
is  not  ready  to  lay  bare  even  to  the  eyes  of  the  man 
who  loves  her.  So,  do  not  be  so  curious  about  the 
length  of  time  I  have  loved  you!  A  man  who  kisses 
flower  girls  on  the  street  might  well  think  himself 
lucky  to  get  me  at  all.  And  yet,  shall  I  tell  you  a  se- 


392         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

cret,  sir?  I  read  the  heart  of  the  man  whom  I  found 
in  that  little  act  of  folly.  I  saw  that  it  was  brave  and 
noble  and  generous  and  kind;  and  I  thought  of  the 
man  every  day  from  that  time  on." 

"How  wonderful!  It  was  an  act  of  folly.  I  am 
ashamed  of  it.  And  yet,  if  I  had  never  committed  it, 
I  should  never  have  known  you  and  I  should  never 
have  learned  how  to  love." 

"  Perhaps  not.  And  yet,  surely  you  would  have 
married.  Why,  Marcus!  "  and  here  Naarah  laughed 
merrily  and  her  eyes  twinkled  with  mischief,  "  you 
might  have  married  the  lady  you  carried  out  of  the 
theater  when  I  met  you  at  the  doorway.  Who  was  she, 
Marcus?  She  surely  wasn't  a  flower  girl." 

As  a  happy  voyager  rounds  a  bend  in  a  seemingly 
placid  river  to  find  himself  on  the  brink  of  rapids  that 
threaten  destruction,  so  Marcus  had  forebodings  of 
disaster  as  Julia  was  thus  brought  suddenly  to  his  mind. 
It  was  not  indeed  that  he  realized  all  at  once  how  in 
securely  he  had  been  drifting  on  to  a  fancied  haven 
of  peace.  Partly  through  weakness,  partly  through 
the  force  of  his  passion  which  had  borne  him  on  like  a 
tide,  he  had  quite  forgotten  Julia.  Now  that  he  was 
forced  to  think  of  her,  he  felt  a  vague  uneasiness;  but 
without  serious  concern  he  answered  Naarah's  ques 
tion. 

"  No,  indeed!  That  lady  was  no  flower  girl.  She 
was  an  old  friend,  the  daughter  of  Cornelius  Veltrius 
and  the  sister  of  my  comrade  Milo." 

The  answer  was  lightly  and  carelessly  given,  and 
yet  Marcus  was  not  quite  himself  in  giving  it.  There 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         393 

was  a  shadow  of  constraint  and  self-consciusness  in  his 
manner,  and  Naarah  could  not  but  note  the  change. 
A  film  of  cloud  seemed  to  have  passed  over  the  sun  that 
had  been  shining  so  brightly  on  them  both.  Hardly 
knowing  what  she  said  or  why  she  said  it,  Naarah  re 
marked, 

"  She  was  very  beautiful.  I  wonder  you  never 
cared  for  her,  especially  as  you  have  known  her  long." 

"  Sometimes  ...   I  ...  thought  ...  I  did." 

The  words  came  out  slowly  and  hesitatingly.  Naa 
rah  felt  that  the  sun  was  still  further  clouded.  She 
was  loth  to  speak.  She  knew  not  how  to  be  silent. 

"  Your  manner  is  strange,  Marcus,"  she  said  very 
gently.  '  You  are  no  longer  natural  and  like  yourself. 
I  find  myself  tempted  to  ask  whether  she  also  thought 
you  cared  for  her.  And  yet  I  must  not  ask  it.  I  do 
not  ask  it.  You  are  all  truth  and  honor  and  you  would 
not  have  asked  me  for  my  love  if  by  winning  it  you 
were  going  to  bring  disappointment  to  another." 

"  Truth  and  honor.  Truth  and  honor,"  repeated 
Marcus  with  an  accent  of  bitterness.  "  I  must  at  least 
be  nothing  but  truth  and  honor  with  you.  I  could  not 
indeed  be  anything  else.  To  win  such  a  love  as  yours 
by  deception  would  be  the  vilest  thing  a  man  could  do. 
You  must  hear  my  story.  That  is  the  only  way  I  can 
make  you  understand." 

"  I  do  not  want  to  hear  your  story.  I  do  not  want 
to  understand.  I  trust  you  entirely.  I  do  not  want 
your  love  unless  it  can  be  honorably  given.  I  leave  it 
all  to  you." 

"  No,   it  can  not  be  decided  so.     Too  much  has 


394         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

passed  between  us.  It  is  only  right  that  you  should 
know  all,  for  otherwise  you  could  not  judge  me  fairly 
and  truly.  And  I  need  your  help.  I  have  lost  my 
way  and  I  can  not  find  it  without  your  clear  sight  to 
guide  me." 

So  Marcus  began  and  told  the  whole  story  of  his  re 
lations  with  Julia.  He  told  how  she  had  always  fasci 
nated  him  and  yet  failed  to  win  his  absolute  respect; 
how  the  interviews  between  them  were  sometimes 
stormy  and  disquieting;  how  he  had  in  consequence 
left  Julia  and  found  satisfaction  in  Delphium's  society; 
how  Delphium's  final  revelation  of  herself  had  driven 
him  away  from  her;  how  he  had  then  met  Julia  by  the 
river,  found  her  gentle  and  winning,  and  said  enough 
to  her  to  make  her  feel  that  he  should  seek  from  her 
something  more  than  friendship. 

;<  I  did  not  seek  it,  however,"  said  Marcus  in  conclu 
sion,  "  and  that  was  why  I  asked  for  your  love  in  en 
tire  good  faith.  If  Julia  and  I  had  been  betrothed,  I 
could  not  for  a  moment  have  forgotten  it.  I  could 
not  have  allowed  my  love  for  you  to  possess  me  so 
completely.  At  any  rate,  I  could  not  but  have  ex 
pressed  it  or  have  thought  of  it  as  anything  but  a 
source  of  grief  and  pain.  But  we  were  not  pledged  to 
each  other.  Julia  was  not  in  my  thoughts.  I  had 
just  begun  my  duties  under  my  father,  and  they  ab 
sorbed  my  energies  so  entirely  that  the  idea  of  follow 
ing  up  that  interview  by  the  river  and  of  seeking  Julia 
in  marriage  did  not  fill  my  mind.  So  when  I  found 
you  and  found  that  I  cared  for  you,  it  did  not  occur 
to  me  that  I  was  not  free.  Love  bore  me  on  its  cur- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         395 

rent  like  a  river  that  bears  the  little  skiff  out  into  the 
ocean.  And  here  I  am  on  the  great  wide  sea  and  no 
shore  in  sight.  There  are  only  the  waste  of  waters 
and  the  angry  waves." 

"  I  do  not  blame  you,  Marcus.  I  do  not  find  fault 
with  you  for  anything  that  you  have  done.  You  are 
not  like  other  men.  I  understand  you  perfectly,  I 
think.  I  see  just  how  you  have  been  misguided  with 
out  ever  having  consciously  done  wrong.  Yes,  I  believe 
in  you.  I  could  be  as  happy  with  you  as  ever  woman 
was  in  this  world.  But  it  may  not  be,  Marcus.  It 
may  not  be.  You  belong  to  another,  not  to  me.  You 
really  promised  yourself  to  Julia.  I  could  not  marry 
you  and  live  with  you  and  think  all  the  time  of  her 
sorrowing  heart  and  her  disappointed  life." 

"  But  we  do  not  know  that  she  would  be  sad  and 
disappointed.  She  might  marry  and  be  far  happier 
than  she  ever  could  have  been  with  me.  As  I  told  you, 
we  clashed  frequently  when  we  met." 

'  Yes,  but  you  told  me  also  that  in  that  last  interview 
she  was  gracious,  kind  and  womanly.  She  cares  deeply 
for  you,  Marcus.  Perhaps,"  and  here  Naarah  gave 
a  smile  that  showed  more  heaviness  of  heart  than 
pleasure,  "  I  am  not  an  impartial  judge;  but  I  do  not 
believe  a  woman  who  has  loved  you  with  all  her  heart 
is  going  to  find  herself  capable  of  feeling  another 
affection." 

*  Would  you  have  me  marry  her  when  I  do  not  care 
for  her,  when  I  do  not  even  thoroughly  respect  her? 
It  would  only  lead  to  unhappiness." 

"  You  have  cared  for  her  enough  to  think  of  mar- 


396         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

rying  her.  You  must  respect  her;  for  I  am  sure,  from 
all  you  tell  me,  that  though  she  is  willful  and  capricious 
she  is  good  and  true  at  heart.  And  she  needs  you  all 
the  more  because  she  is  not  free  from  faults.  You 
could  be  such  a  strength  and  help  to  her!  And  I  am 
sure  you  would  learn  to  care  for  her  more  and  more 
as  you  saw  her  depend  on  you  and  grow  finer  and  more 
unselfish  through  trusting  in  you  and  leaning  on  you." 

"  You  reason  well,  Naarah;  but  I  do  not  know  how 
to  give  you  up.  I  think  it  would  kill  me  to  do  so. 
Such  a  love  as  I  feel  for  you  comes  but  once.  I  was 
wounded  almost  to  death.  You  nursed  me  through 
the  dark  days  and  flooded  my  life  with  joy.  Your 
love  was  like  a  sun.  Take  it  away  and  all  is  dark.  I 
shall  go  down  again  into  that  valley  of  death  and  no 
hands  will  lift  me  up  tenderly  and  lay  me  in  the  green 
meadow  beside  the  still  waters." 

Marcus'  face,  pale  from  weakness  and  exhaustion, 
had  grown  ashen  gray  through  the  agony  of  his  spirit. 
Naarah  was  alarmed  as  she  watched  him,  and  her 
heart  was  torn  with  anguish  because  she  had  to  give 
him  counsel  that  made  his  suffering  piteous  to  see  and 
added  to  her  own  grief  till  it  was  almost  too  great  to 
bear.  But  she  kept  back  her  tears  even  while  her 
heart  was  breaking.  He  was  hurt  and  feeble;  she 
must  be  strong.  Speaking  without  a  tremor,  though 
the  effort  was  an  agony,  she  said  very  quietly, 

"  Men  do  not  die  of  love,  Marcus.  They  suffer, 
but  the  wound  is  cured  by  time.  Have  courage !  You 
will  only  gain  strength  in  the  end  by  doing  what  is 
right.  We  must  not  think  merely  of  ourselves.  If 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT  397 

you  suffer  so  much,  think  what  Julia  has  suffered  and 
what  she  would  suffer  if  her  hopes  should  be  disap 
pointed." 

"  I  can't  reason.  I  can't  talk.  I  only  know  that  I 
suffer  and  that  the  light  seems  to  have  gone  out.  Oh, 
why  didn't  Gugon  strike  a  little  deeper?  But  no!  I 
should  not  then  have  had  these  moments  of  joy  — 
such  joy  as  I  believe  no  man  ever  had  before.  It  was 
worth  while  to  come  into  the  world  just  to  have  them. 
I  shall  think  of  them  and  live  in  them  till  I  die." 

"  But  you  are  not  going  to  die,  Marcus.  It  is  your 
grief,  not  your  reason  and  sound  sense,  that  is  speak 
ing.  I  tell  you  again  that  men  do  not  die  from  disap 
pointed  love.  No  more  do  women,  and  women  are 
ruled  by  their  feelings  far  more  than  men.  Do  you 
think  I  am  not  hurt  and  almost  crushed  by  this  great 
sorrow?  But  I  am  not  going  to  die.  I  am  going  to 
live.  I  must  live  for  my  grandfather  and  for  the  good 
I  may  yet  do  to  my  own  land,  among  my  own  people. 
And  you  too  must  live.  You  must  live  for  your  father, 
for  your  country,  and  for  Julia  who  needs  you  and 
whose  life  will  be  poor  and  broken,  I  fear,  without 
you." 

"  Naarah,  you  do  not  understand.  I  do  not  think 
of  marriage  as  most  men  do.  It  had  always  been  to 
me  the  one  most  sacred  and  beautiful  thing  in  the 
world.  As  my  father  and  mother  found  it,  it  is  the 
supreme  joy  and  happiness.  I  have  wanted  what 
they  found  in  each  other  and  what  they  shared  together 
till  death  took  my  mother  to  the  unknown  country 
where  perhaps  you  and  I  shall  sometime  meet  again. 


398         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

But  I  could  not  find  what  I  wanted.  I  never  saw  the 
promise  of  it  till  that  day  when  you  spoke  to  me  and 
showed  me  that  what  my  whole  nature  craved  really 
existed  in  the  world.  Had  I  been  wise  I  should  have 
sought  you  then;  but  everything  seemed  to  work 
against  it.  We  Romans  are  a  proud  race,  and  I  was 
made  to  feel  by  everyone  to  whom  I  confided  my 
thought  that  an  alliance  with  an  alien  woman  was 
impossible.  Even  my  father  took  that  view.  So  I 
was  tossed  about  and  made  restless  and  unhappy  by 
desires  and  longings  I  did  not  know  how  to  satisfy. 
At  last  chance  brought  me  to  Julia  when  she  was  in  a 
gentle  kindly  mood,  and  here,  I  thought,  is  my  destiny. 
Why  look  for  what  will  never  appear?  You  are  a 
Roman.  Here  is  a  stately  and  beautiful  Roman 
woman  who  will  make  your  home  bright  and  attractive 
to  the  people  of  rank  and  dignity  among  whom  you 
move.  I  approached  Julia  as  if  it  really  were  destiny 
that  was  trying  to  unite  us  and  I  made  her  feel  that  it 
was  so.  And  then  the  true  destiny,  not  the  false  one 
that  had  smiled  upon  me  only  to  work  my  ruin, 
brought  me  to  you,  and  I  found  what  my  heart  had 
been  longing  and  thirsting  for  ever  since  I  grew  to  be 
a  man.  You  are  my  life,  Naarah.  How  can  I  give 
you  up?  Can  a  man  who  has  seen  the  sunrise  go  and 
dwell  in  a  cave  where  there  is  nothing  but  murky  dark 
ness?  Can  a  man  who  has  sat  by  a  brookside  in  the 
springtime  and  smelled  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers 
and  heard  the  birds  sing  and  the  waters  plash  go  and 
spend  his  days  in  a  sandy  desert?  No,  I  can  give  you 
up  if  I  have  to  do  so.  I  would  not  marry  you  and 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         399 

thereby  do  an  act  of  dishonor.  And  if  I  were  well 
and  strong,  I  would  go  out  to  the  frontier  and  die  on 
the  field  or  live  on  sad  and  companionless  as  long  as 
I  could  serve  my  country.  But  I  have  been  sore 
stricken.  Death  almost  claimed  me,  and  I  am  too 
weak  and  exhausted  to  fight  him  off  any  more.  I  don't 
want  to  fight  him.  Let  me  pass  on!  That  is  best. 
That  is  the  only  peace." 

Quite  worn  out  with  the  long  effort,  Marcus  turned 
his  face  away  and  closed  his  eyes.  Naarah  watched 
him  for  a  moment  and  then,  unable  to  control  her  own 
grief  any  longer,  she  sought  her  room,  sank  upon  her 
knees,  and  cried  to  the  God  of  her  fathers  for  help 
and  guidance,  while  the  scalding  tears  flowed  like  rain. 


XXXVI 

THROUGH  the  rest  of  the  day  Marcus  slum 
bered  and  tossed  by  turns,   suffering  cruelly 
from  his  wound  as  he  moved  uneasily  from 
one  position  to  another,  and  yet  indifferent  to  the  suf 
fering  because  of  the  far  greater  mental  distress  which 
he  endured. 

At  the  approach  of  evening  Merari  came  to  see 
how  his  patient  was  faring  and  found  Naarah  watch 
ing  him  with  undisguised  concern.  She  had  taken  her 
place  again  at  the  bedside  after  spending  two  or  three 
hours  by  herself,  and  she  was  unspeakably  troubled 
to  see  an  anguish  of  mind  that  she  was  powerless  to 
relieve.  Merari  was  surprised  and  shocked  when  he 
noted  Marcus'  condition.  His  face  was  worn  and 
haggard.  His  eyes  wandered  restlessly  about.  Even 
when  he  lay  quiet  he  seemed  to  be  getting  no  real  re 
pose. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  said  Merari  anxiously  to 
Naarah.  "  He  has  not  been  like  this  at  any  time  be 
fore.  Something  must  have  happened  to  excite  and 
upset  him." 

'  Yes,  he  has  found  out  something  that  distresses 
him  greatly.  He  is  so  grieved  in  mind  that  his  bodily 
strength  has  felt  the  strain  and  is  becoming  ex 
hausted." 

400 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         401 

"  How  did  he  hear  such  ill  news?  No  one  has  been 
here  to-day  but  his  father." 

u  It  was  something  that  came  out  in  a  long  conver 
sation  he  had  with  me  about  his  life  here  in  Rome, 
something  which  he  did  not  understand  before  and 
which  has  shaken  him  terribly." 

Merari  looked  searchingly  at  his  granddaughter. 
Naarah  colored  under  his  gaze  and  did  not  meet  his 
eye. 

"  It  is  not  what  you  think,  grandfather,"  she  said, 
"  but  I  cannot  say  any  more." 

"  I  would  not  have  you  do  so,  but  I  hope  you  will 
see  some  way  to  relieve  his  anxiety.  His  condition 
will  be  serious  if  his  mind  is  not  made  easy." 

Naarah  and  her  grandfather  took  turns  in  watch 
ing  at  the  bedside  through  the  night.  Marcus  slept 
fitfully  and  never  long  at  a  time.  When  he  was  awake 
he  talked  much  to  himself,  and  no  admonitions  could 
keep  him  from  moving  about  upon  the  bed  in  no  gen 
tle  or  careful  manner.  The  very  sharpness  of  the 
pain  thus  caused  seemed  to  be  a  relief.  It  made  him 
conscious  that  he  had  a  body  and  that  it  too  as  well  as 
the  spirit  could  give  torment  and  unrest. 

The  result  was  that  the  wound  became  inflamed 
and  fever  set  in.  When  Agrippa  made  his  usual  visit 
the  following  morning  he  was  astonished  and  troubled 
to  note  the  change. 

"What  does  it  all  mean?"  he  asked  anxiously  of 
Naarah  whom  he  found  at  her  post.  "  What  has 
caused  these  alarming  symptoms?  There  was  no  sign 
of  them  when  I  came  yesterday." 


402         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

"  It  is  a  mental  trouble  that  has  caused  the  change. 
The  wound  was  healing  nicely,  and  my  grandfather 
thought  the  danger  was  passed  two  or  three  days  ago. 
He  is  now  doing  all  he  can,  but  medicines  will  not  cure 
a  wound  of  the  spirit." 

'  The  wound  must  have  been  a  savage  one.  Who 
gave  it?  " 

"  No  one,  intentionally.  Your  son  has  found  that 
there  is  something  in  his  relations  with  one  he  has 
known  long  that  sorely  hurts  and  distresses  him." 

'What  is  it?  I  am  his  father.  He  is  my  only  son, 
my  only  child.  I  have  a  right  to  know." 

"  I  think  you  have,"  said  Naarah  after  reflecting  a 
moment,  "  but  not  yet.  When  you  come  to-morrow, 
I  will  tell  you  all  if  there  still  seems  to  be  reason  for 
doing  so.  But  you  know  how  strong  Marcus  is.  In 
twenty-four  hours  there  could  be  no  serious  change  for 
the  worse.  Wait  then,  I  beg  of  you,  till  to-morrow; 
for  I  think  that  by  that  time  the  crisis  may  be  passed." 

"  Which  means,  I  am  sure,  that  you  intend  to  do 
something  to  make  the  crisis  pass.  Am  I  not  right?  " 

u  You  are  right.     I  should  not  put  you  off  without  a 


reason." 


*  Then  I  will  wait,  for  I  have  confidence  in  your 
judgment  as  well  as  in  your  goodness  of  heart.  But 
I  shall  be  here  again  at  sundown.  Perhaps  you  will 
have  something  to  tell  me  then." 

"  Perhaps.     I  am  not  sure.     I  will  not  promise." 
Agrippa  lingered  a  few  moments,  took  Marcus  by 
the  hand  and  spoke  words  of  encouragement.     Mar 
cus  looked  at  him  and  smiled,  but  seemed  to  have  no 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         403 

wish  to  speak.  Fearing  to  excite  and  weaken  him, 
Agrippa  then  took  his  departure,  though  he  sought 
Merari  before  he  left  the  house  and  received  from  him 
the  assurance  that  there  was  no  immediate  danger. 
After  he  had  gone  away  Naarah  continued  to  sit  and 
watch  by  the  bedside. 
."  Marcus,"  she  said  presently. 

"  What  is  it,  Naarah?" 

"  Are  you  glad  that  I  am  here?  " 

"  Unspeakably  glad." 

"  And  yet  you  do  not  try  to  stay  in  the  world  that  I 


am  in." 


"  No,  Naarah." 

"Why  not,  Marcus?" 

"  The  world  is  so  wide.  We  should  be  so  far 
apart." 

!<  I  should  care  for  you.  I  should  be  thinking  of 
you." 

"  But  I  should  not  see  you." 

'  The  world  will  be  very  lonely  to  me  if  you  are 
not  in  it,  Marcus.  I  shall  be  old  with  grief  when  I 
am  young." 

"  Come  and  join  me." 

;<  No,  grief  does  not  kill.  I  shall  be  likely  to  live 
long." 

"  I  shall  wait  for  you." 

"  But  I  might  not  find  you.  Our  Holy  Books  do 
not  tell  us  that  lovers  and  kindred  meet  beyond  the 
valley  of  the  dark  shadow." 

;(  Do  they  not?  That  seems  strange,  for  I  think  it 
must  be  that  they  come  together  again.  Don't  you 


4o4         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

feel  as  if  your  love  would  last  forever?  I  am  sure 
mine  will." 

"  Yes,  but  that  world  beyond  seems  so  shadowy  and 
dark,  and  this  is  so  full  of  sunshine.  Stay  in  it,  Mar 
cus  !  Stay  in  it  for  my  sake !  " 

4  I  am  too  tired,  Naarah.  This  fever  is  burning 
me  up.  It  will  burn  all  my  strength  away  before  many 
days,  and  then  I  shall  go." 

Naarah  feared  that  this  was  true.  Marcus,  so 
Merari  had  told  her,  would  become  delirious  if  the 
fever  could  not  be  subdued  and  very  likely  pass  away 
without  regaining  consciousness.  And  the  fever  could 
not  be  conquered  unless  the  mind  was  relieved.  Naa 
rah  saw  that.  She  had  made  her  last  effort  to  arouse 
the  worn  and  weary  spirit  and  had  failed.  She  could 
think  now  of  but  one  thing  to  do,  and  she  girded  her 
self  for  as  difficult  a  task  as  a  woman  can  ever  per 
form. 


XXXVII 

THAT  same  day  Julia  was  sitting  in  her  beauti 
fully  decorated  room  and  listlessly  attempting 
to  read  the  poems  of  Catullus.  The  great 
Marriage  Song,  with  its  brisk  movement  and  its  chim 
ing  music,  had  always  been  a  favorite  with  her,  and 
she  now  read  snatches  of  it  with  genuine  enjoyment. 
But  she  was  in  no  mood  to  read  it  through  from  begin 
ning  to  end  with  full  appreciation  and  abandonment  to 
the  spell  of  its  cadences.  From  time  to  time  she  would 
let  the  hand  that  held  the  roll  fall  into  her  lap;  and 
she  would  then  forget  the  verses  as  her  own  thought 
took  possession  of  her  and  drove  all  other  considera 
tions  out  of  her  mind. 

u  I  wonder,"  she  queried  to  herself,  "  whether  he  is 
going  to  send  me  any  word  about  himself,  any  message 
that  he  is  thinking  of  me  and  wishing  to  see  me? 
They  say  he  is  getting  better.  It  is  time  for  him  to 
give  me  a  share  in  his  thoughts  instead  of  letting  that 
low  foreign  girl  take  all  his  attention.  To  think  that 
he  should  have  gone  to  that  horrid  place  just  on  her 
account  and  that  she  should  be  the  one  to  watch  at  his 
bedside  and  bring  him  back  to  life  and  health!  Oh, 
that  a  man  like  him,  the  bravest,  the  cleverest,  and  the 
most  splendid  man  in  Rome,  should  have  his  head 
turned  by  that  silly,  black-eyed  creature  with  her  doll's 
face  and  her  chirping  ways !  To  fancy  an  insignificant 

405 


406         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

alien  upstart  when  there  are  women  in  Rome,*'  and 
here  Julia  swept  across  the  room  and  looked  at  her 
self  in  a  polished  mirror  of  silver,  "  who  could  give 
him  beauty  and  affection  and  all  the  dignity  and  sta 
tion  that  ambition  could  desire !  Yes,  a  woman  of  his 
own  people  who  had  wit  and  craft  and  the  power  to 
mingle  with  the  highest,  might  place  him  on  the  Em 
peror's  seat. 

"  But  I  will  not  give  him  up.  I  need  not  talk  about 
the  other  women  of  Rome."  Here  she  again  placed 
herself  before  the  mirror  and  gazed  at  the  image  in  it 
with  seeming  satisfaction.  "  He  belongs  to  you, 
Julia,  the  daughter  of  Veltrius.  If  he  did  not  plight 
his  troth  to  you,  he  said  enough  to  give  you  the  right 
to  claim  him.  And  I  will  claim  him.  He  is  a  man 
of  honor,  and  I  shall  see  that  he  keeps  his  word.  Oh, 
yes;  I  shall  see  that  he  keeps  his  word!  " 

Here  she  laughed  a  bitter  scornful  laugh;  and  even 
as  she  did  so  her  special  serving  maid  knocked  and 
entered  and  told  her  that  a  woman  who  insisted  upon 
seeing  her  was  in  the  main  audience  or  waiting  room. 

"  What  does  she  want?  " 

"  She  says  she  brings  you  news  from  Marcus,  the 
son  of  the  Prefect." 

"  At  last,"  said  Julia  triumphantly,  as  if  to  herself. 
Then,  a  thought  striking  her,  she  inquired  eagerly, 

'What  does  the  woman  look  like?  Is  she  young 
or  old?" 

"  Very  young,  I  should  say." 

"Black-eyed?" 

"  Yes." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         407 

"  With  a  pretty,  simpering,  babyish  face?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  maid  without  hesitation;  for  she 
had  learned  the  wisdom  of  accommodating  herself  to 
her  mistress'  views. 

"  It  is  she !  "  cried  Julia  scornfully.  "  The  impu 
dent  creature !  I  will  go  to  her  and  I  will  see  that  she 
leaves  the  house  much  sadder  and  humbler  than  she 
entered  it." 

Julia  made  her  way  into  the  waiting  room  and  saw 
instantly,  as  she  had  expected,  that  the  young  woman 
who  was  awaiting  her  there  was  no  other  than  the 
stranger  whom  Marcus  had  accosted  with  surprise  at 
the  door  of  the  theater  and  whose  face  had  remained  in 
delibly  fixed  in  her  memory.  She  advanced  toward  her 
with  a  slow  and  stately  step  and  an  expression  of 
hauteur  and  disdain;  while  Naarah,  who  had  seated 
herself  while  waiting,  rose  as  Julia  entered  and  went 
to  meet  her  with  equal  dignity  but  with  quicker  move 
ment  and  with  a  smile  of  greeting. 

"  I  bring  you  good  news,"  she  said,  "  which  I  know 
you  must  be  eager  to  hear  and  which  you  of  all  persons 
have  a  right  to  hear.  I  wish  I  could  say  it  was  all 
good  news.  Alas,  it  is  not!  But  you  will  at  any  rate 
be  glad  to  know  that  Marcus,  the  son  of  Agrippa,  is 
still  living  in  spite  of  a  very  dangerous  wound  which 
at  first  seemed  sure  to  be  fatal." 

'  You  tell  me  nothing  that  I  did  not  know.  I  have 
been  informed  of  everything  you  say,  though  not  by 
those  from  whom  I  might  have  expected  to  receive  the 
courtesy." 

Julia  stood  facing  Naarah  as  she  said  this,  her  tones, 


4o8          THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

her  features  and  her  attitude  showing  all  the  contempt 
which  she  could  make  them  express. 

"  You  are  right,  dear  lady.  You  are  entirely  right. 
Word  should  have  been  sent  to  you  directly  from  my 
grandfather's  house  where  the  son  of  Agrippa  has  been 
cared  for.  But  it  has  been  a  most  anxious  season,  and 
those  about  the  sick  bed  could  think  of  nothing  but  the 
care  which  such  a  desperate  injury  required.  And  — 
you  will  pardon  me,  I  am  sure,  for  speaking  frankly 
—  we  did  not  know  till  yesterday  of  the  ...  of  the 
promise  that  he  had  given  you.  It  was  indeed  wrong 
and  cruel  that  you  should  have  been  kept  in  suspense 
when  a  life  that  was  so  dear  to  you  was  at  the  very 
gates  of  death.  Believe  me,  we  would  have  sent  you 
hourly  tidings  had  we  known.  You  see,  it  was  our 
ignorance  that  was  at  fault,  and  that  I  am  sure  you 
will  forgive. " 

"  And  how,  I  should  be  glad  to  know,  was  your 
ignorance  enlightened?  How  could  you  become  in 
formed  about  a  matter  so  private  and  confidential?  " 

"  It  was  the  son  of  Agrippa  himself  who  told  me.  I 
could  not  possibly  have  gained  the  knowledge  from 
anyone  else." 

"  Indeed!  And  so  Marcus,  the  son  of  Agrippa,  be 
gins  to  tell  you  of  his  love  for  another  woman  as  soon 
as  he  is  able  to  talk.  What  a  peculiar  and  gratifying 
intimacy  you  must  have  with  him !  I  congratulate  you. 
Is  it  your  habit  to  establish  so  early  these  close  and 
confidential  relations  with  men?" 

*  Your  words  are  unkind,  but  I  must  admit  that 
your  resentment  is  most  natural;  for  you  do  not  under- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         409 

stand.  But  you  must  understand,  dear  lady.  I  have 
come  to  tell  you  things  you  need  to  know.  I  am  sorry 
to  have  to  say  them,  for  I  know  they  will  give  you  pain. 
But  when  you  hear  them,  you  will  see,  I  am  quite  sure, 
that  the  only  thing  possible  for  me  was  to  tell  them  to 
you." 

"  You  are  very  confident.  Perhaps  that  was  to  be 
expected  from  a  young  girl  who  so  quickly  becomes 
familiar  with  men.  But  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  learn 
ing  about  matters  so  confidential  from  such  a  messen 
ger.  Perhaps  it  is,  after  all,  your  own  affairs  that  you 
come  to  talk  about,  and  I  very  much  doubt  whether  I 
ought  to  listen  to  you." 

"  Oh,  but  you  must  listen.  It  would  be  cruel,  wicked 
not  to  do  so.  There  is  more  than  you  dream  of  de 
pending  upon  it.  The  very  life  of  the  man  you  care 
for  is  at  stake." 

"  Must  is  a  word  I  am  not  used  to  hearing  from 
strangers,  especially  from  such  as  do  not  hesitate  to 
call  me  cruel  and  wicked.  But  if  this  is  a  life  and 
death  matter,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  let  you  speak.  We 
will  retire  into  this  adjoining  room,  however,  where 
you  can  speak  without  being  overheard.  In  your  ex 
citement  your  tones  are  somewhat  penetrating." 

Julia  led  the  way  into  an  anteroom  where  they  were 
sure  of  being  free  from  intrusion,  seated  herself,  as 
suming  an  indolent  and  indifferent  attitude  as  she  did 
so,  and  without  motioning  her  visitor  to  a  chair  or  a 
divan  bade  her  begin. 

"  First  of  all,"  said  Naarah,  much  grieved  at  the 
studied  insolence  with  which  she  was  treated,  but  feel- 


4io         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

ing  pity  rather  than  indignation  all  the  while  toward  a 
woman  whom  she  considered  to  have  been  unfairly 
treated,  "  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  you  more  exactly  than 
you  yet  know  just  what  has  happened  since  that  dread 
ful  wound  was  received  and  the  son  of  Agrippa  fell 
fainting  just  outside  my  grandfather's  doorway." 

"  He  was  coming,  I  think,  from  a  vile  resort  kept 
by  one  Euthro,  after  finding  you  there." 

'  You  are  correctly  informed,  my  lady.  I  was  car 
ried  there  by  evil  men  and  should  have  suffered  I  know 
not  what  terrible  things  had  not  the  son  of  Agrippa 
found  and  rescued  me.  One  of  the  wicked  men  there 
followed  him  while  he  was  seeing  that  I  reached  my 
grandfather's  house  in  safety  and  inflicted  such  a  fright 
ful  wound  upon  him  that  at  first  my  grandfather,  who 
is  skilled  in  the  art  of  healing,  despaired  of  his  life." 

'  I  believe  the  far  East  has  sent  to  Rome  many  so- 
called  healers  who  use  strange  drugs  and  practice  magic 
and  incantations.  Your  grandfather  is,  I  presume, 
one  of  that  class." 

"  My  grandfather  is  a  merchant  and  is  known  and 
honored  by  all  the  people  of  rank  and  influence  in  my 
nation;  but  in  a  long  life  that  has  been  spent  in  many 
lands  he  has  acquired  an  unusually  full  and  profound 
knowledge  of  medicine  which  he  makes  use  of  for  his 
friends  but  never  for  money.  He  administered  pow 
erful  sleeping  drafts  which  induced  almost  continuous 
sleep  for  four  days  and  warded  off  fever.  We  were 
painfully  anxious,  for  my  grandfather  said  the  wound 
was  really  a  mortal  one  and  that  if  death  did  not  re 
sult,  it  was  solely  because  of  a  strength  and  health 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         411 

which  not  one  man  in  a  thousand  possesses." 

"  No  doubt  too,  in  spite  of  your  seeming  modesty, 
your  grandfather  was  relying  on  his  own  skill,  which 
you  consider  so  remarkable." 

"  His  skill  is  very  rare,  I  think;  and  a  less  dexter 
ous  treatment  might  not  have  saved  the  life  in  spite 
of  the  sufferer's  wonderful  strength  of  body.  How 
ever  that  may  be,  he  waked  after  four  days,  and  it 
really  seemed  as  if  the  crisis  had  passed.  During  the 
days  that  followed  he  continued  to  gain;  so  that  until 
yesterday  we  were  perfectly  sure  he  would  recover. 
But  yesterday  came  a  most  unexpected  and  most  seri 
ous  relapse,  and  to-day  we  are  again  almost  ready  to 
give  up  hope." 

"  But  what,  pray,  has  become  of  your  grandfather's 
skill?  I  thought  it  was  the  part  of  a  wise  physician 
to  prevent  just  such  lapses  as  this.  It  would  seem  as 
if  the  skill  had  been  much  over-rated." 

'  There  is  no  skill  in  the  world  that  will  cure  the 
body  if  the  mind  is  a  prey  to  anxiety  and  distress;  and 
the  son  of  Agrippa  is  so  unhappy  that  he  can  not  sleep 
restfully,  he  will  not  eat,  he  tosses  on  his  bed  and  in 
flames  his  wound,  and  he  is  in  consequence  the  victim 
of  a  raging  fever  which  is  rapidly  wearing  away  his 
strength." 

"It  is  a  strange  story  that  you  tell  me.  I  am  sure 
he  is  too  sick  and  weak  to  see  any  besides  you  and  your 
grandfather,  and  I  suppose  his  father  also.  His  own 
father  could  hardly  excite  him  and  make  him  unhappy. 
What  is  it  that  you  and  your  grandfather  have  done  to 
bring  about  this  most  cruel  change  and  plunge  a  suffer- 


4i2         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

ing  man  from  hope  into  despair?  " 

"  My  grandfather  is  quite  innocent  in  the  matter.  I 
am  the  one  that  has  thus  distressed  him  and  I  did  it 
simply  by  telling  him  that  he  ought  to  do  a  thing  which 
he  is  very  loth  to  do." 

"Indeed!  Has  he  made  you  his  Mentor?  I  can 
not  but  laugh  as  I  think  of  it.  .  Marcus  the  Roman, 
the  son  of  the  City  Prefect,  the  man  of  honor  and  cour 
age  and  of  such  strength  and  keenness  of  mind  as  few 
ever  possess,  has  to  learn  his  duty  from  a  young  girl 
of  a  foreign  nation  whom  he  would  never  have  known 
had  she  not  boldly  accosted  him  on  the  street !  Really, 
this  is  getting  too  absurd.  I  begin  to  feel  that  I  have 
listened  to  you  too  long  already." 

Sorely  hurt  by  the  pitiless  taunts  and  jibes  with 
which  she  was  thus  constantly  assailed,  Naarah  did  not 
lose  her  courage  nor  did  she  feel  any  prompting  to 
answer  scorn  with  scorn.  She  was  face  to  face  with 
an  evil  pride.  It  had  to  be  humbled,  and  she  was 
grieved  and  sorry  that  she  was  forced  to  humble  it. 
How  could  she  feel  anything  but  pity  for  this  insolent 
and  sharp-tongued  woman,  who  was  yet,  she  was  sure, 
honorable  and  true,  mastered  by  a  passion  that  was  not 
returned,  and  craving  the  sympathy  and  affection  that 
would  make  her  sweet  and  kindly  instead  of  resentful 
and  bitter?  How  gladly  would  she  avoid  giving  her 
pain  and  humiliation  if  it  were  possible  I  How  gladly 
would  she,  if  permitted,  show  her  friendliness  and  ex 
press  her  heartfelt  sorrow  at  robbing  her  of  the  one 
thing  that  could  make  life  beautiful  and  joyous ! 
Quite  lifted  above  selfish  feeling  and  moved  by  deep 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         413 

and  tender  emotion,  Naarah  went  to  the  woman  whom 
she  felt  she  had,  however  innocently,  wronged,  knelt 
at  her  feet,  and  said  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 

"Do  not  speak  to  me  so  scornfully,  dear  lady! 
Your  words  are  bitter,  but  I  know  it  is  because  you 
love  so  deeply  and  your  love  has  been  so  cruelly  tried. 
It  was  very  hard  for  you  to  pass  these  days  without 
any  word  from  the  man  who  had  given  you  his  prom 
ise.  But  oh,  for  his  sake  I  beg  you  to  be  just  even 
while  your  heart  is  torn  and  bleeding.  He  has  never 
spoken  words  of  love  to  you  —  you  are  too  true  and 
honest  not  to  admit  that  —  and  it  was  because  he  was 
never  able  to  give  you  the  love  which  a  woman  needs 
to  make  her  truly  happy.  There  was  much  indeed  to 
draw  him  to  you  —  your  beauty,  your  charm,  your  wit, 
the  brightness  of  your  presence,  your  love  of  Rome, 
your  admiration  for  him  and  your  ambition  to  see  him 
great  and  honored  and  renowned.  No  wonder  that 
he  sought  you  and  felt  the  spell  of  your  brilliancy  and 
fascination.  The  wonder  to  me  is  that  he  did  not  long 
ago  learn  to  feel  for  you  the  deep  and  overmastering 
love  which  would  have  made  him  think  you  the  one 
fairest  prize  in  all  the  world.  But  that  love  he  gave 
to  another.  He  did  not  really  know  her.  He  saw 
her  so  little  that  he  did  not  realize  how  deep  his  love 
for  her  was.  And  so  he  said  things  to  you  which 
rightly  made  you  feel  that  he  belonged  to  you  and  that 
you  and  he  were  to  have  one  life  together.  And  then 
he  found  that  this  other  feeling  was  the  deeper  one, 
was  indeed  so  strong  that  it  claimed  and  possessed  him 
wholly,  flooded  his  heart  and  alone  gave  him  the  prom- 


4i4         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

ise  of  sacred  happiness.  All  this  he  found  out  as  he 
lay  wounded  and  near  to  death;  and  with  it  came  the 
consciousness  that  he  was  not  free,  that  his  promise 
had  really  been  given  to  you.  It  was  when  I  told  him 
that  promise  was  sacred  and  must  not  be  broken  that 
his  mind  became  distressed,  his  will  to  live  enfeebled, 
and  death  which  he  had  fought  so  bravely  once  more 
threatening.  You  would  pity  him,  dear  lady,  if  you 
could  see  him  now  as  he  lies  wan  and  haggard,  his 
eyes  closed,  his  strength  slowly  failing,  his  heart  sad 
and  heavy,  and  his  interest  in  what  is  taking  place 
around  him  wholly  gone.  Oh,  if  you  love  him  deeply 
and  tenderly  and  truly  —  and  I  am  sure  you  do  —  give 
him  back  his  promise !  For  his  sake  give  it  back !  He 
would  not  ask  it.  He  would  not  be  willing  that  I 
or  anyone  else  should  ask  it;  for  he  is  all  truth  and 
honor  and  he  has  the  noble  Roman  pride  which  has 
made  your  city  great  through  the  long,  long  years. 
But  I  ask  it  for  him  and  I  ask  it  for  his  sake.  I  ask 
it  for  his  country's  sake,  for  where  is  there  another 
man  like  him  to  stand  up  and  do  for  her  among  all  the 
countless  multitudes  she  rules  ?  And  I  ask  it  for  your 
own  sake,  dearest  lady;  for  how  could  you  have  any 
peace  or  happiness  afterward  if  you  let  this  glorious 
noble  life  go  out  in  darkness  when  you  might  make  it 
a  light  and  strength  for  all  the  Roman  nation?  For 
there  is  none  other  like  him.  You  know  there  is  no 
one  like  him  in  all  the  world." 

[l  I  know  it  so  well,"  answered  Julia  in  gentler  tones 
than  she  had  used  before,  for  she  was  not  unmoved  by 
Naarah's  fervent  pleading,  "  that  what  you  ask  of  me 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         415 

is  nothing  less  than  that  I  give  up  all  hope  of  happi 
ness.  I  have  cared  for  Marcus  ever  since  I  was  old 
enough  to  know  the  feelings  that  are  most  sacred  to  a 
woman.  I  suffered  much  when  I  saw  that  he  did  not 
care  for  me  as  I  cared  for  him.  It  was  because  I  felt 
deeply  his  failure  to  return  my  own  affection  that  I  was 
sometimes  willful  and  passionate  when  we  met  and 
made  him  go  away  from  me  in  no  friendly  mood.  But 
I  felt  sure  that  I  should  win  him  in  the  end.  I  thought 
when  he  found  me  unexpectedly  and  told  me  he  was 
staying  in  Rome  for  my  sake  that  I  really  had  won  him. 
And  I  should  have  won  him  if  it  had  not  been  for  you. 
Why  did  you  come  between  us?  Why  did  you  speak 
to  him  that  day  when  you  interfered  to  help  a  miser 
able  girl  who  needed  no  help  at  all?  If  you  had  acted 
as  maids  are  expected  to  act  upon  the  streets  and  let 
alone  things  with  which  you  had  no  concern,  he  would 
never  have  known  you,  never  have  been  hurt  in  trying 
to  help  you,  and  I  should  be  happy  to-day  in  feeling 
that  he  was  wholly  mine.  But  now  you  have  taken 
him  away  from  me  and  you  come  and  ask  me  to  give 
him  up  that  you  may  have  him.  For  that  is  what  it 
all  means.  I  understand  it  and  you  can  not  deny  it. 
I  am  to  give  him  up  that  he  may  live,  and  if  he  lives 
he  is  to  marry  you." 

"  I  do  not  know  that  he  will  marry  me.  I  do  not 
find  any  wish  in  my  heart  that  he  should  marry  me. 
Indeed,  it  hardly  seems  to  me  now  that  I  could  marry 
him;  for  if  I  did  I  should  be  haunted  by  the  thought 
that  I  had  come  between  you  and  him  and  found  the 
way  to  happiness  only  through  your  sorrow.  No,  it 


4i 6         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

is  not  for  myself  that  I  am  pleading.  I  am  thinking 
only  of  him.  I  want  him  to  live.  I  can  not  bear  to 
think  that  he,  so  brave,  so  generous,  so  full  of  strength 
and  power  to  do,  should  be  lying  still  in  death,  with 
all  the  great  and  splendid  things  he  might  have  done 
forever  unaccomplished.  Oh,  give  him  back  his  prom 
ise  just  that  he  may  live  and  not  be  lost  to  the  world! 
Give  it  back,  I  beseech  you,  and  know  the  joy  that 
comes  from  doing  that  which  is  generous  and  noble 
even  if  it  costs  you  pain!  Ah,  how  often  is  love  like 
a  knife  in  a  woman's  heart!  And  yet  even  in  her 
agony  she  blesses  that  which  is  at  once  her  glory  and 
her  sorrow." 

"Who  taught  you  that?  How  do  you  know  it? 
It  is  a  strange  saying  to  come  from  one  so  young." 

"  Is  it  not  love's  language?  Is  it  not  what  every 
woman  learns  as  she  comes  to  be  truly  a  woman?  I 
have  been  learning  it  every  day  since  I  first  met  the  son 
of  Agrippa.  And  your  own  story  tells  me  that  you 
have  been  learning  it  too." 

"  Not  well.  Not  perfectly.  If  that  is  what  the  lit 
tle  God  with  the  bow  and  arrow  teaches,  I  am  not  an 
apt  pupil.  I  want  happiness  from  love.  I  want  it 
because  it  is  my  right  to  have  it,  and  I  mean  to  find  it 
still." 

"  But  you  can  not  find  the  kind  of  happiness  you 
seek  in  a  love  that  is  not  returned.  You  can  not  find 
it  in  being  hard  and  ungenerous  to  a  man  who,  even 
though  it  costs  him  his  life,  will  not  violate  the  promise 
he  gave  you.  If  you  should  have  to  think,  as  I  fear 
you  will,  that  you  have  caused  his  death,  that  surely 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         417 

would  be  anything  but  happiness." 

"  I  refuse  to  believe  it.  A  man  of  such  matchless 
iron  strength  1  He  could  not  die  for  such  a  reason. 
It  is  foolish  to  think  it." 

"  Not  if  he  were  himself.  It  is  only  because  he  is 
at  the  point  of  death  from  his  terrible  wound.  When 
the  will  is  dead  and  life  is  trembling  in  the  balance,  a 
whispered  word,  the  fragrance  of  a  flower,  the  carol 
of  a  bird  in  the  stillness  of  the  morning,  may  win  back 
a  spirit  that  is  fluttering  for  release." 

"  Then  whisper  your  own  words  to  him  and  win  him 
back  if  you  can.  They  ought  to  do  it,  for  you  say  he 
loves  you.  Mine  would  be  vain  and  impotent;  for  I, 
who  have  known  him  so  long  and  given  him  my  whole 
heart,  am  cast  aside  and  counted  as  nothing  because 
you  have  come  between  us.  I  must  keep  away  from 
him  in  his  struggle  with  death,  while  you  can  sit  at  his 
bedside  and  murmur  words  of  love  to  him  and  see  him 
smile  as  he  listens.  Oh,  I  could  hate  you  for  it,  and 
yet  I  do  not.  I  came  to  meet  you  with  hatred  in  my 
heart  and  I  said  hard  and  cruel  things  to  you.  I  am 
sorry  I  said  them.  You  are  kind  and  unselfish.  I 
have  no  right  to  hate  you  or  be  angry  with  you.  But 
Marcus  belongs  to  me.  I  am  a  Roman.  I  could  un 
derstand  him  and  lead  him  on  to  greatness  as  you  could 
not.  If  he  should  get  well  and  if  you  and  your  grand 
father  should  go  back  to  your  own  land  —  which  I 
would  that  you  had  never  left  —  I  believe  that  he 
would  care  for  me  still  and  that  I  could  make  him 
happy.  But  why  should  I  give  him  up  and  see  him 
marry  you  and  be  lost  to  Rome  and  greatness?  If  he 


4i 8         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

can  not  get  well  unless  he  is  to  be  free  to  marry  you,  I 
think  it  would  be  as  well  for  him  to  die.  Now  go  to 
him  and  bring  him  back  to  life  if  you  can;  but  know 
that  I  shall  claim  him  if  you  do." 

"  Farewell,  lady.  I  shall  pray  to  the  God  of  my 
nation  that  you  may  be  able  to  claim  him  and  I  shall 
be  at  his  bedside  day  and  night  till  I  know  surely 
whether  it  is  death  or  life." 


XXXVIII 

WHEN  Agrippa  came  again  a  little  after  sun 
down  Naarah  told  him  all.     She  told  him 
how  deeply  Marcus  cared  for  her,  how  in 
consequence  the  partial  promise  he  had  made  to  Julia 
took  from  him  in  his  exhausted  state  the  desire  to  live, 
and  how  she  herself  had  vainly  pleaded  with  Julia  to 
give  him  back  his  freedom. 

Gravely  and  silently  Agrippa  listened  to  the  story. 
How  deeply  and  how  painfully  it  impressed  him  he  did 
not  show  and  Naarah  never  knew.  His  son  care  for 
an  alien  woman  whose  race  the  Romans  held  in  sub 
jection  and  despised?  How  strange!  How  unex 
pected!  How  dismaying!  Naarah  was  beautiful. 
She  was  altogether  unselfish.  Had  her  heart  not  been 
thoroughly  pure,  she  would  not  have  gone  to  Julia  and 
pleaded  with  her  as  she  did.  But  the  stern  Roman 
pride  which  kept  Germanicus  from  marrying  a  Jewess 
he  loved  deeply  was  fully  roused  in  the  Prefect.  In 
his  heart  he  rejoiced  that  Julia  had  refused  to  relin 
quish  what  she  not  unjustly  regarded  as  her  own.  He 
would  rather  see  his  son  engage  in  a  grim  and  desper 
ate  battle  with  death  than  find  healing  through  the  hope 
of  a  marriage  with  this  Hebrew  girl.  But  the  girl 
herself  had  acted  too  nobly  to  allow  him  to  wound  her 
or  let  her  realize  what  was  passing  in  his  mind. 

419 


420         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

"  You  have  acted  bravely  and  unselfishly,"  he  said. 
"  Do  not  mourn  over  your  failure.  Whatever  hap 
pens  I  shall  hold  you  blameless." 

"  But  will  you  not  go  yourself  and  plead  with  Julia? 
Remember,  your  son's  life  is  at  stake.  Surely  she 
would  not  stand  against  your  prayers  and  entreaties." 

"  She  will  never  hear  them.  It  would  not  be  self- 
respecting  to  supplicate  her  farther.  She  has  made 
her  choice  and  I  can  not  find  it  in  me  to  reproach  her 
for  it.  All  depends  upon  Marcus  himself  and  upon 
the  care  you  and  your  grandfather  give  him;  and  that 
I  know  will  be  the  best  that  skill  and  devotion  can  give. 
I  will  say  a  few  words  to  him  myself  if  he  is  not  too 
weak  to  hear  me,  as  I  may  be  able  to  put  a  little  cour 
age  into  his  heart." 

Agrippa  had  indeed  but  little  hope  as  he  stood  by 
the  bedside,  for  Marcus  looked  as  if  the  hand  of  death 
were  upon  him.  The  high  fever,  which  made  the  eye 
glitter  and  flushed  the  cheeks,  did  not  prevent  the  face 
from  looking  drawn  and  wasted  or  the  complexion 
from  showing  the  hue  of  exhaustion.  Agrippa  leaned 
over  him,  clasped  his  hand  very  gently  and  said, 

"  You  are  very  sick,  Marcus,  but  I  want  you  to  get 
well.  You  are  all  that  I  have  in  the  world.  Live  for 
me!  Live  for  your  country!  Rome  needs  you. 
Live,  live,  live,  I  say,  and  do  the  things  which  your 
mother  and  I  dreamed  and  hoped  for  you  when  you 
were  a  little  child  and  sat  upon  her  knees !  " 

Marcus  smiled  and  murmured  so  that  they  could 
hardly  catch  the  words, 

"  It  is  too  late.     I  am  tired  out  and  I  have  lost  my 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         421 

hold  upon  life." 

Then  he  closed  his  eyes  and  Agrippa  went  away. 

But  yet  it  was  not  too  late.  His  father's  appealing 
words  may  have  given  a  thrill  of  life  to  the  jaded  and 
nerveless  will.  His  own  strength  was  perhaps  too  mas 
sive  to  yield  to  the  deadly  assaults  that  were  made 
upon  it  and  that  seemingly  had  broken  into  the  inner 
most  citadel  of  being.  At  any  rate  the  spark  of  life 
was  never  extinguished,  though  for  days  it  seemed 
ready  at  any  moment  to  flicker  out.  Naarah  obtained 
snatches  of  sleep  at  the  bedside,  but  never  left  it  for 
many  moments  at  a  time.  Merari,  despairing  because 
he  had  never  seen  a  man  recover  from  such  extreme 
exhaustion  of  mind  and  body,  yet  alert  and  resourceful, 
shared  the  long  vigil  and  watched  intently  the  slightest 
symptoms  of  change. 

For  seven  days  the  fever  raged  and  the  best  that 
could  be  said  at  any  time  was  simply  that  the  end  had 
not  yet  come.  On  the  eighth  day  the  slumber  seemed 
more  restful  and  there  were  the  faintest  signs  of  im 
provement.  The  next  day  the  improvement  was  so 
marked  that  Merari  said  joyfully, 

"  He  will  live.     He  will  live." 

Two  days  later  he  was  so  far  recovered  that  he 
could  think  clearly  and  talk  to  those  around  him;  and 
almost  the  first  words  he  uttered  he  said  to  Naarah  in 
a  spirit  of  discouragement  and  of  faint  resistance  to 
the  new  tides  of  life  that  were  creeping  through  him. 

'  Why  did  you  do  it,  Naarah?  I  was  too  tired  to 
live  any  longer.  I  wanted  to  die." 

"  And  I  wanted  you  to  live  and  be  the  man  you  were 


422         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

meant  to  be  and  are  going  to  be  some  day." 

"  I  was  meant  for  you.  That  is  the  only  thing  I  am 
sure  of.  As  I  can  not  have  you,  I  do  not  seem  to  take 
an  interest  in  anything  else.  I  am  still  too  tired. 
When  I  get  strong  again  I  will  try  to  quit  myself  like 
a  man  and  do  the  things  my  father  would  have  me  do. 
I  wonder  if  I  ever  shall." 

'  You  have  made  a  good  beginning,  Marcus.  Since 
I  first  saw  you  such  a  short  time  ago,  you  have  fought 
in  the  arena,  broken  into  a  den  of  infamy  to  rescue  a 
girl,  received  a  dagger  thrust  from  a  villain,  and  twice 
you  have  beaten  Death  as  thoroughly  as  your  Hercules 
is  said  to  have  done  when  he  made  him  give  up  Alces- 
tis.  If  you  can  do  all  this  in  three  short  months,  what 
can  you  not  do  in  a  lifetime?  " 


XXXIX 

MARCUS  gained  slowly,  for  his  listless  mood 
continued.  The  future  did  not  look  joyous  to 
him,  and  he  seemed  to  shrink  from  the 
thought  of  activity  or  the  serious  pursuit  of  any  end. 

On  one  of  the  early  days  of  his  new  convalescence 
word  was  brought  him  that  Cethegus  wished  to  see  him. 
Marcus  felt  strong  enough  for  the  interview  and  Cethe 
gus  was  ushered  into  the  sick  room  by  Merari,  who 
cautioned  him  about  taxing  the  patient's  strength. 

"  Such  a  rare  disciple  of  ^sculapius,"  answered 
Cethegus  suavely,  "  has  a  right  to  be  obeyed.  Per 
haps  you  would  prefer  to  remain  and  see  that  I  do  not 
become  too  garrulous?  Pray  do  so!  I  have  nothing 
private  to  communicate.'1 

So  Merari  remained,  for  the  anxious  hours  he  had 
passed  at  the  bedside  made  his  care  a  very  jealous  and 
watchful  one.  But  he  placed  the  visitor  close  to  Mar 
cus,  and  the  always  self-possessed  Cethegus  began  to 
talk  in  his  usual  vein  of  irony,  which  at  the  same  time 
expressed  hearty  and  genuine  feeling. 

;<  It  is  pleasant  to  look  at  you  again,  Marcus.  You 
have  given  us  rather  an  anxious  season.  For  some 
days  we  were  expecting  the  news  that  you  had  found 
this  world  a  little  too  tame  for  further  occupancy,  in 
spite  of  gladiators  and  night  assassins,  and  had  started 
for  Hades  to  carry  off  Cerberus  or  engage  in  a  wrest- 

423 


424         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

ling  match  with  Hercules  down  there.  I  am  sure  you 
would  be  successful  in  any  such  little  adventure,  but  we 
are  glad  to  keep  you  here.  Things  would  be  a  little 
dull  without  you.  Have  you  planned  your  next  sur 
prise  yet,  or  haven't  you  got  strong  enough  for  that?  " 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  confidence  in  my  powers, 
Cethegus;  but  I  am  a  little  tired  of  adventures.  When 
I  get  well,  I  am  going  to  lead  such  a  tame  and  quiet 
life  that  you  will  hardly  know  me." 

"  That  is  a  sick  man's  utterance.  You  are  alto 
gether  too  low-spirited.  You  need  somebody  to  stand 
at  your  side,  Marcus,  and  put  life  and  courage  into 
you.  Why  don't  you  follow  my  example  and  get  mar 
ried?  I  am  going  to  be  married  to  Julia." 

"  Married  to  Julia?  "  cried  Marcus,  sitting  bolt  up 
right  in  bed.  "  Impossible!  " 

"  Now,  see!"  said  Cethegus,  turning  to  Merari. 
"  I  have  put  energy  and  spirit  into  your  patient  already. 
I  have  touched  his  vanity.  You  did  not  suppose,"  here 
he  looked  at  Marcus  again,  "  that  Julia  would  for  a 
moment  think  of  marrying  anybody  but  yourself. 
That  she  should  turn  from  you  and  put  up  with  such  a 
plain,  ordinary  person  as  myself  is  a  blow  to  your 
pride.  But  you  will  get  over  the  shock  in  time  and  be 
the  loudest  in  wishing  Julia  and  me  happiness." 

"  But  .   .  .  but,"  stammered  Marcus  — 

11  But  you  don't  understand  how  it  all  came  about. 
Well,  I  cquld  tell  you  the  story  and  show  you  that  it 
happened  in  a  very  simple  and  natural  way.  But  I 
hardly  think  I  will.  You  remember  how  the  Athenian 
Hippoclides,  as  that  genial  old  gossip-monger  Herod- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         425 

otus  tells  the  story,  lost  his  chance  for  a  wife  by  too 
free  a  use  of  his  legs.  I  should  be  sorry  to  forfeit 
mine  by  an  unwise  indulgence  of  the  tongue.  And 
then  you  know,  Marcus,  or  if  you  do  not  know  already 
(Cethegus  could  not  refrain  from  putting  a  slight  em 
phasis  upon  '  already,'  which  Marcus  well  knew  had 
reference  to  himself  and  Delphium)  you  will  perhaps 
know  ere  long,  that  there  comes  one  moment  in  a  man's 
life  which  he  is  not  quite  willing  to  talk  about.  He 
will  tell  what  happened  in  it.  Indeed,  he  takes  im 
mense  satisfaction  in  doing  so  — " 

'  Just  as  you  take  especial  satisfaction  in  coming 
and  telling  me  before  anyone  else  what  happened  in 
your  particular  moment.  Ah,  Cethegus,  don't  tax  me 
with  vanity  unless  you  can  look  me  in  the  face  and  say 
that  I  am  not  the  first  to  share  your  confidence !  " 

"  No,  you  are  the  first,  Marcus.  I  admit  it,"  said 
Cethegus,  who  was  rather  amused  than  embarrassed 
by  the  way  in  which  Marcus  had  turned  the  tables  upon 
him.  *  There  were  .  .  .  well,  there  were  various 
reasons  why  I  thought  you  should  be  the  first  to  hear 
the  news.  So  I  came  here  to  tell  it  to  you  and  receive 
your  congratulations." 

"  We  won't  probe  deeply  into  your  various  reasons, 
Cethegus,  and  I  most  certainly  do  congratulate  you  and 
Julia  with  all  my  heart.  May  you  both  live  long  and 
may  all  good  things  come  to  you !  " 

"  Oh,  I  mean  to  live  long  and  I  am  sure  I  shall  if 
you  are  out  of  the  way.  The  only  time  I  have  ever 
been  in  danger  was  when  I  went  to  Euthro's  that  night 
and  you  nearly  got  us  into  a  fray  with  those  villains 


426         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

who  wanted  to  cut  our  throats.  Go  off  to  the  wars 
somewhere,  Marcus,  and  win  glory;  and  we  shall  have 
a  quiet  time  here  in  Rome  and  live  perfectly  secure. 
And  I  hope  you  won't  get  killed  in  the  first  battle  you 
engage  in,  but  I  very  much  fear  you  will;  for  you  will 
rush  into  the  midst  of  the  enemy  without  waiting  to 
see  whether  your  men  are  following  you.  Still,  if 
Hacho  plunges  into  the  fight  with  you,  you  are  likely 
to  come  out  unscathed.  His  peculiar  mode  of  attack 
will  always  cause  consternation  and  give  your  tardy 
followers  time  to  rally  to  your  support. 

"  But  I  fear  I  have  disobeyed  the  injunctions  of  this 
wise  healer  of  yours  by  talking  so  long  and  so  freely. 
So  I  must  take  my  leave  with  many  regrets  if  I  have 
tired  you  and  taxed  your  strength." 

*  Your  visit  has  cheered  me,  Cethegus,  and  I  thank 
you  with  all  my  heart  for  coming.  Farewell,  with  all 
good  wishes." 

Merari  ushered  Cethegus  from  the  room,  returned 
and  lingered  a  while,  and  then  excused  himself  on  the 
ground  of  weariness.  So  eager  had  Marcus  been  to 
have  him  go  that  he  could  hardly  keep  from  hastening 
his  departure  by  urging  him  to  seek  rest  and  sleep. 
When  Naarah  entered  the  room  a  few  moments  later, 
she  saw  a  look  in  Marcus1  eye  that  made  her  stand  still 
and  brought  the  color  to  her  cheek. 

'  What  has  happened,  Marcus?"  she  said  falter- 
ingly  and  without  meeting  his  gaze. 

c  The  best  thing  in  the  world  that  could  have  hap 
pened,"  cried  Marcus  as  he  stretched  his  hands  out  to 
her.  "  Come  to  me  and  I  will  tell  you." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         427 

Slowly  she  came  to  him  and  placed  her  hands  in  his. 

"What  is  it?"  she  said  softly. 

u  Can  you  not  guess?  " 

"  You  shall  never  know  what  I  am  guessing." 

u  Yes,  I  shall;  for  your  face  can  not  hide  the  truth 
from  me.  You  are  guessing  that  I  have  my  freedom, 
and  it  is  true.  Julia  is  to  marry  Cethegus." 

Naarah's  eyes  sparkled  with  pleasure  for  a  moment. 
Then  the  light  died  from  her  face;  she  withdrew  her 
hands  from  Marcus'  clasp  and  sat  down  with  a  grave 
and  troubled  look. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  Naarah?  "  cried  Marcus 
in  perplexity.  "  I  thought  the  news  would  fill  you  with 
delight." 

"  I  am  thinking  of  Julia." 

"  But  why  think  so  mournfully  of  her?  She  has 
found  her  happiness." 

"  No,  she  has  lost  it." 

"  Come,  come,  Naarah!  "  said  Marcus  with  a  laugh. 
:(  Don't  be  so  flattering  to  me  and  so  hard  upon  Cethe 
gus!  He  is  upright;  he  has  talents;  he  will  make  her 
happy." 

'  I  hope  so,"  answered  Naarah  with  a  sigh,  "  but  I 
saw  her  heart.  She  cared  for  you,  Marcus,  as  a 
woman  cares  once  only  and  never  again." 

"  But  why  has  she  accepted  Cethegus  if  she  does  not 
care  for  him?  " 

*  Through  pride,  I  suppose.  As  she  thought  the 
whole  matter  over  after  I  left  her,  no  doubt  she  made 
up  her  mind  that  she  could  not  join  her  life  with  yours 
even  if  you  asked  her  to  do  so.  Her  self-respect  would 


428         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

not  have  allowed  her  to  marry  a  man  whose  heart  she 
had  not  won.  So  she  smiled  upon  Cethegus  partly 
from  pride,  partly  from  ambition." 

"  What  had  pride  to  do  with  it?  " 

"  She  did  not  want  the  world  to  guess  her  disap 
pointment  by  seeing  her  live  unmarried." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  so.  As  to  ambition,  I  can  realize 
how  that  may  have  influenced  her.  She  has  always 
wanted  power.  I  think  she  will  secure  it  with  Cethe 
gus.  He  is  shrewd;  she  is  brilliant.  They  will  help 
each  other.  Let  us  prophesy  success  for  them  instead 
of  pitying  them." 

"  I  trust  the  success  will  come;  yet  I  fear  it  will  not 
bring  full  satisfaction  if  it  does.  And  Julia  well  de 
serves  a  happy  life.  I  believe  she  is  good  and  noble 
at  heart.  I  shall  always  have  a  kindly  feeling  for 
her." 

"  I  am  sure  you  will.  Your  heart  is  so  tender  it 
would  not  let  you  do  otherwise.  But  let  us  think  of 
ourselves  now!  I  am  free,  Naarah,  and  there  is  no 
longer  anything  to  come  between  us." 

"  Alas,  there  is  much,  as  I  tried  to  show  you  when 
you  first  told  me  that  you  cared  for  me.  Do  not  de 
ceive  yourself,  Marcus.  There  are  powerful  influ 
ences  that  will  work  to  keep  us  apart." 

'  You  mean  especially  your  grandfather  and  my 
father?" 

"  My  grandfather  would  be  sorry  to  oppose  any 
thing  on  which  I  had  set  my  heart;  yet  a  different  mar 
riage  is  what  he  would  wish  for  me,  and  I  could  not 
bear  to  grieve  him.  Your  father's  resistance  will  be  a 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         429 

very  determined  one.  I  doubt  if  his  consent  can  be 
gained." 

"  It  will  be  gained.  Your  grandfather  will  approve 
when  he  sees  that  your  happiness  is  at  stake.  Every 
obstacle  will  be  overcome." 

"  So  at  any  rate  we  will  hope.  And  whatever 
comes,  we  shall  be  happy  in  our  love.  Nothing  can 
change  that." 

"  No,  that  we  shall  have  always." 

If  Marcus  was  so  overjoyed  at  the  news  Cethegus 
brought  him  that  he  had  no  strong  curiosity  as  to  the 
exact  happenings  of  the  "  particular  moment,"  the 
story  still  requires  that  they  should  not  be  utterly  passed 
over.  The  truth  was  that  Cethegus'  good  fortune  did 
not  come  to  him  in  the  wholly  simple  and  natural  way 
he  claimed.  Julia's  refusal  to  release  Marcus  from 
what  she  interpreted  as  a  promise,  though  it  was 
hardly  that,  had  been  a  very  decided  one.  Only  after 
bitter  and  painful  conflict  did  she  decide  to  give  him 
up.  But  it  was  true,  as  Naarah  had  divined,  that  she 
was  at  heart  too  proud  to  wish  for  a  life  union  with  a 
man  who  cared  for  another.  Consequently,  when 
Cethegus  sought  her  shortly  after  her  interview  with 
Naarah,  he  found  her  in  a  very  sober  but  a  gracious 
and  kindly  mood.  Indeed,  her  manner,  though  sub 
dued,  was  so  winning  and  so  friendly  that  he  summoned 
all  his  courage,  told  her  how  he  had  long  cared  for  her 
so  deeply  that  he  could  give  his  affection  to  no  other 
woman,  and  asked  her  to  share  his  life.  Her  reply 
was  not  immediate,  nor  could  she  meet  the  eyes  that 
were  so  earnestly  fixed  upon  her.  With  her  own  heart 


430         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

she  needed  to  have  one  last  communing  before  her  an 
swer  was  given.     After  a   short  time,   however,   she 
looked  at  him  with  a  smile  and  said, 
"  I  will  share  all  with  you,  Cethegus." 
How  much   the   answer  cost  her,   Cethegus  never 
knew. 


XL 

NAARAH'S  prediction  was  correct.     Marcus 
was  so  elated  by  his  new  found  freedom  that 
his  father  could  not  help  noticing  the  change. 
He  had  been  depressed ;  now  he  was  jubilant.     Agrippa 
inquired  what  had  so  cheered  and  brightened  him,  and 
Marcus  privately  told  him. 

The  Prefect's  brow  clouded  as  he  heard  the  story. 
"  This  must  not  be,  Marcus,"  he  said.  "  I  knew 
what  it  was  that  brought  you  so  near  to  death  after 
you  were  well  on  your  way  to  recovery.  Naarah  told 
me  that  your  partial  promise  to  Julia  was  tormenting 
your  mind  and  making  your  life  hang  by  a  thread. 
Yet  I  was  glad  that  Julia  refused  to  release  you. 
Broken  though  I  should  have  been  if  you  had  not  re 
covered,  I  did  not  want  your  life  to  be  saved  at  the 
cost  of  honor  and  a  Roman  woman's  happiness." 

"  But  honor  was  not  sacrificed.  I  did  not  even  ask 
Julia  to  release  me.  It  was  Naarah  that  did  that  to 
save  my  life,  and  a  brave  and  noble  thing  it  was  to  do. 
What  other  woman  would  have  had  the  courage  to 
do  it?  But  though  I  was  held  to  the  promise  I  made 
-  and  it  was  not  really  a  promise  —  I  was  saved  from 
death;  and  after  I  began  to  mend,  Julia  consented  to 
marry  Cethegus.  If  she  chooses  to  do  this,  how  can 
I  be  accused  of  destroying  her  happiness?" 

4.31 


432         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

"  You  could  not  justly  be.  I  spoke  as  I  did  merely 
to  show  how  strong  my  feeling  is.  You  owe  your  life 
to  your  country,  Marcus.  With  a  woman  like  Julia 
at  your  side,  you  can  win  honor  and  do  Rome  noble 
service.  What  can  you  do  if  you  wed  a  Hebrew 
woman?  Nothing.  You  would  be  of  no  more  value 
to  Rome  than  the  legionaries  who  were  slain  at  Cannae 
and  lie  buried  by  the  Aufidus." 

"  Surely,  father,  you  are  wrong.  In  the  soldier's 
life  it  is  valor  and  strategy  that  count.  If  I  lay  low 
my  country's  enemies,  what  will  the  Romans  care 
whether  the  woman  who  sits  at  my  fireside  was  born 
within  the  walls  of  Servius  Tullius  or  on  a  foreign 
shore?" 

"  The  battlefield  is  not  the  only  place  to  gain  ad 
vancement.  In  these  strange  turbulent  times  it  is  not 
the  best  place  to  gain  it.  You  have  begun  your  career 
here  in  Rome.  Here  is  the  field  where  the  richest  har 
vests  are  to  be  reaped." 

"  But  not  by  him  who  swings  the  sickle  like  a  hire 
ling.  It  is  the  man  who  travels  far,  sleeps  under  for 
eign  skies,  mingles  with  many  races,  and  follows  the 
Roman  eagles  across  deserts  and  through  forests  who 
will  best  mold  these  Romans  to  his  will  and  magnify 
and  widen  their  dominion.  And  while  he  is  gaining 
this  wider  knowledge  and  acquiring  power  of  command, 
his  wife  can  only  guard  his  hearth-fire.  Whether  she 
be  Roman  or  alien,  she  is  alike  powerless  to  help  him." 

"  She  can  help  him  more  than  you  realize.  You 
are  too  young  to  understand  how  wide  is  woman's  do 
main  and  how  potently  she  rules  in  it.  I  tell  you,  you 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         433 

will  make  a  mistake  that  you  will  pay  for  all  your  days 
if  you  marry  this  alien  girl,  beautiful  and  winsome  and 
unselfish  though  she  be.  You  will  ruin  your  career." 

"  That  could  not  be.  At  the  very  least  I  can  give 
Rome  the  service  of  an  honest  man  and  bring  up  my 
children  to  love  her  and  honor  her  and,  if  need  is,  die 
for  her.  And  in  these  days  of  uncleanness  and  de 
bauchery  that  is  no  small  thing  to  do." 

"  It  is  far  less  than  you  ought  to  do." 

"  Well,  be  it  so  then!  Better  far  the  smaller  serv 
ice  that  comes  from  a  pure  sweet  home  than  the  larger 
one  that  is  offered  by  a  heart  unsatisfied  and  a  mind 
never  at  peace  with  itself." 

No  more  was  said  at  the  time,  but  the  convictions  of 
neither  were  shaken  and  several  times  the  battle  was 
fought  out  anew.  How  it  would  ultimately  have  gone 
if  one  of  the  contestants  had  not  received  a  quite  irre 
sistible  support,  it  is  hard  to  say.  But  to  Marcus  the 
support  came,  and  it  came  in  the  person  of  Merari. 
His  consent  was  not  indeed  immediately  asked.  Naa- 
rah  naturally  would  not  ask  it.  Marcus  was  not  ready 
to  ask  it  till  he  had  overcome  his  father's  opposition. 
But  the  wise  old  Hebrew  understood  the  situation. 
He  read  it  in  his  granddaughter's  grave  looks  and 
Marcus'  troubled  face.  Without  waiting  to  be  ques 
tioned,  he  himself  begged  Naarah  to  tell  him  if  her 
loss  of  cheerfulness  was  not  due  to  her  having  set  her 
heart  on  something  she  despaired  of  gaining. 

"  Yes,  grandfather,"  was  Naarah's  simple  and  quiet 
answer. 

"  And  has  Marcus  the  son  of  Agrippa  set  his  heart 


434         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

upon  the  same  thing  also?  " 

"  Yes,  grandfather." 

"  I  thought  as  much  and  I  think  I  know  why  you 
both  are  so  cast  down.  There  is  an  obstacle  in  the 
way.  But  do  not  despair.  I  think  I  can  overcome  it." 
'Then  you  approve?"  cried  Naarah  in  a  burst  of 
joy,  while  she  clasped  her  hands  and  held  them  out 
appealingly. 

"  No,  my  child,"  said  Merari,  shaking  his  head 
sadly  and  solemnly.  "  I  do  not  approve.  But  neither 
do  I  forbid.  I  dare  not  forbid,  for  I  fear  I  should 
be  resisting  Jehovah's  will  if  I  did  so.  But  no  more. 
You  are  never  to  know  all  that  is  in  my  heart.  Be 
satisfied  with  this :  Your  happiness  is  everything  to 
me  and  I  shall  not  only  not  stand  in  the  way  of  it  but 
I  shall  do  what  I  can  to  see  that  it  is  secured." 

Understanding  perfectly  that  Marcus  was  finding  it 
difficult,  perhaps  impossible,  to  win  his  father's  con 
sent  to  his  marriage  with  a  foreign  woman,  Merari 
went  to  Agrippa  to  plead  the  cause  of  the  two  lovers. 
Received  with  marked  cordiality,  in  which  there  was 
yet  discernible  a  shade  of  embarrassment,  Merari  at 
once  approached  the  unwelcome  subject. 

*  You  are  no  doubt  aware,"  he  said,  "  that  your  son 
desires  to  marry  my  granddaughter  Naarah." 

"  I  am." 

"  And  probably  you  know  too  that  she  returns  his 
affection." 

"  I  have  my  son's  assurance  of  it,  which  of  course 
I  do  not  doubt." 

"  Then  why  do  you  stand  in  the  way  of  their  hap- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         435 

piness?  " 

"  How  do  you  know  that  I  do?  " 

"  How  could  I  help  knowing  it?  Their  own  dejec 
tion  tells  me.  And  do  I  not  know  the  unbending  Ro 
man  pride?  You  are  deeply  opposed  to  this  marriage 
because  you  think  it  will  injure  your  son's  career.  Is 
it  not  so?  " 

"  It  is  so.  And  my  deep  respect  for  you  must  not 
prevent  me  from  telling  you  that  '  injure  '  is  too  mild 
a  word.  If  Marcus  marries  your  granddaughter,  he 
will  ruin  his  prospects  for  advancement." 

u  So   speaks   the    Roman,    arrogant   even  when  he 

would  be  just.     Have  you  no  sense  of  shame  in  saying 

this,  knowing  as  you  do  that  these  two  are  rarely  suited 

to  each  other  and  their  love  is  deep  and  honorable?  " 

'  Why  should  I  have  sense  of  shame?  " 

"  Because  you  let  prejudice  rule  you  and  possess  you. 
Because  you  set  ambition,  rank,  and  fame  above  the 
joys  of  a  contented  home  and  offspring  that  will  be  the 
fair  fruit  of  a  pure  and  noble  love." 

"  You  are  using  the  same  argument  my  son  has  used. 
I  do  not  find  it  convincing." 

"  It  convinces  me,  a  Hebrew.  Much  more  should 
it  convince  you,  a  Roman." 

"  What  mean  you  by  that?  " 

"  I  mean,  it  is  I,  not  you,  that  has  reason  to  oppose 
this  marriage,  did  I  look,  as  you  do,  to  baubles  instead 
of  jewels.  For  my  nation  is  older  far  than  yours.  It 
has  had  a  far  more  wonderful  and  glorious  history. 
Yes,  so  splendid,  so  distinguished,  so  unparalleled  has 
been  its  past,  that  the  Hebrew  thinks  of  marriage  with 


436         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

a  foreigner  as  something  defiling  and  unclean." 

"  Strange  words  these  to  be  used  of  a  youth  like  my 
son  Marcus,  with  his  perfect  rectitude  and  his  sure 
rise  to  fame  and  honor  —  sure,  that  is,  if  he  does  not 
spoil  all  by  indiscretion." 

"  No,  not  strange,  if  you  knew  how  through  more 
than  a  thousand  years  the  one  true  God,  whom  you 
mock  by  erecting  graven  images  to  worship,  had  made 
himself  known  to  my  people  and  visited  them  with 
peculiar  favor.  Yes,  uncounted  generations  before 
this  city  of  which  you  are  so  proud  began  to  grow  here 
by  the  Tiber,  our  great  forefather  Abraham  was  led 
by  Jehovah  into  our  own  blessed  country  and  there  he 
founded  our  nation.  In  a  time  of  famine  his  de 
scendants  went  down  into  Egypt  and  were  there  made 
slaves.  Jehovah  delivered  them  by  a  great  deliver 
ance.  To  lead  them  through  the  desert  and  the  wil 
derness  back  to  the  borders  of  their  own  chosen  land 
he  raised  up  Moses  and  talked  with  him  face  to  face 
—  Moses  who  could  lift  up  his  hand  and  call  down  the 
wrath  or  the  healing  mercy  of  Jehovah;  Moses,  a  man 
so  mighty  and  august  that  your  Scipios  and  Caesars  are 
but  children  when  compared  with  him.  And  when  he 
passed,  other  great  leaders  were  raised  up  who  brought 
my  people  into  the  land  of  promise  and  helped  them 
to  subdue  the  fierce  and  stubborn  foes  that  there 
awaited  them." 

"  Did  they  subdue  them?  If  so,  the  story  is  not 
known,  as  is  that  of  the  great  victories  the  Greeks  won 
over  the  Persians." 

"  It  is  not  known  because  my  nation  has  been  iso- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         437 

lated;  but  it  is  a  far  more  wonderful  and  glorious  story. 
Yes,  we  subdued  our  enemies  because  Jehovah  fought 
upon  our  side.  In  a  single  night  he  destroyed  scores 
of  thousands  of  those  who  came  to  conquer  us.  He 
raised  up  David  and  Solomon  to  rule  us.  Under  them 
Jerusalem,  the  seat  of  our  sacred  temple,  became  great 
and  splendid  a  thousand  years  ago,  long,  long  before 
Romulus  and  Remus  lived  and  founded  Rome." 
"  And  yet  to-day  Rome  rules  Jerusalem." 
"  To-day,  but  not  to-morrow,  Rome  is  corrupt. 
Rome  is  tottering.  You  know  it.  But  to  my  people 
Jehovah  has  promised  a  Messiah,  a  leader  greater  than 
the  world  has  ever  known,  who  will  make  the  Hebrew 
nation  more  glorious  and  mighty  than  Rome  is  now 
when  the  world  has  passed  beneath  her  yoke.  To 
this  day  my  people  are  looking  forward.  They  know 
it  is  to  come.  There  are  many  signs  that  show  the 
times  are  ripe  for  its  coming.  My  people  are  strong 
and  conscious  of  their  strength.  Rome  is  growing 
more  shameless  every  day.  Our  power  will  increase. 
Yours  will  wane.  Your  palaces  and  temples  will 
moulder  on  these  hills;  Jerusalem  will  shine  with  a 
luster  that  will  brighten  through  the  years. 

(  Well  then  may  we  look  with  horror,  almost  with 
loathing,  on  marriage  with  those  who  are  not  of  our 
own  blood,  yes,  even  with  you  Romans  who  look  down 
on  all  the  world.  Your  worship  is  impure.  Ours  is 
holy.  Your  blood  is  tainted;  ours  is  clean.  So  justly 
do  we  hold  oursejves  in  isolation  because  we  are  God's 
chosen  people,  so  sacredly  do  we  maintain  our  race 
from  alien  mixture,  that  we  do  not  easily  forgive  those 


438         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

who  marry  foreigners  and  bring  an  unknown  strain  into 
their  offspring's  blood. 

"  Do  you  think  then  that  I  welcome  this  union  of 
your  son  Marcus,  vigorous  and  splendid  as  he  is,  with 
my  beloved  child?  Ah,  no!  The  thought  of  it  has 
cost  me  many  and  bitter  tears.  But  I  accept  it,  even 
though  it  may  almost  make  me  and  my  granddaughter 
outcasts  when  we  go  back  to  our  own  land.  I  accept 
it  because  I  fear  my  child's  heart  will  be  broken  unless 
I  do.  I  accept  it  above  all  because,  as  I  look  back  at 
the  strange  ways  in  which  these  two  have  been  so  many 
times  brought  together,  I  see  the  hand  of  Jehovah 
overruling  my  unrighteous  will  and  guiding  them  to 
each  other.  I  accept  it.  Can  you  do  less?" 

'  Agrippa's  answer  was  long  in  coming.  Realizing 
how  much  Merari  had  sacrificed  in  sanctioning  a  mar 
riage  which  at  heart  he  so  disapproved,  he  did  not  feel 
able  longer  to  withhold  his  own  consent.  But  his 
pride  still  rebelled  and  it  made  his  reply,  when  it  finally 
came,  of  the  briefest.  It  was  not  till  he  had  held 
Merari  many  minutes  in  suspense  that  he  finally  rose, 
clasped  the  Hebrew's  hand  warmly  and  said, 

"  No,  I  can  do  no  less." 

Sadly,  and  yet  eagerly  because  of  the  joy  he  was  to 
bestow,  the  old  man  returned  to  his  home  and  made 
known  the  glad  news.  He  made  it  known  to  Marcus 
and  Naarah  together,  and  then  biding  Naarah  kneel 
at  the  bedside  he  joined  Marcus1  hands  with  hers,  and 
with  outstretched  arms  and  eyes  lifted  heavenwards 
repeated  solemnly, 

"  May  Jehovah  bless  you  and  preserve  you.     May 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         439 

Jehovah  be  merciful  and  gracious  unto  you.  May 
Jehovah  let  the  glory  of  his  own  face  shine  upon  you 
and  give  you  peace." 


XLI 


MARCUS  had  sent  for  Cethegus  in  the  early 
days  of  his  first  recovery  because  he  was  anx 
ious  to  hear  him  tell  how  he  had  been  able  to 
save  Naarah  from  Delphium's  murderous  anger.  Be 
fore  his  other  chosen  comrades  had  had  opportunity 
to  visit  him,  his  relapse  came  and  only  his  father  had 
been  admitted  to  Merari's  house.  But  as  he  again 
recovered  health  and  spirits  his  thoughts  turned  warmly 
to  the  friends  with  whom  he  had  spent  many  a  pleasant 
hour,  and  he  thought  regretfully  that  the  merry-mak 
ings  they  had  had  together  would  never  be  repeated. 
Yet  in  spite  of  the  pleasure  with  which  he  recalled 
some  of  the  happy  evenings  at  Delphium's  when  wit 
was  lively  and  the  jests  were  droll  and  telling,  he  re 
joiced  that  he  was  leaving  the  old  roistering  life  for 
ever  behind  him.  He  had  largely  emancipated  him 
self  from  it  when  he  began  to  serve  under  his  father; 
he  was  now  to  wash  his  hands  of  it  completely.  Was 
it  a  thing  to  be  ashamed  of?  He  hardly  knew.  Cer 
tainly  he  had  never  let  it  lead  him  into  unclean  and 
dishonorable  ways.  And  but  for  it  he  would  never 
have  found  Naarah.  So  he  was  not  able  to  think  with 
utter  condemnation  of  the  turbulent  pathways  he  was 
to  tread  no  more.  But  the  old  days  of  turbulence 
were  well  ended.  Of  that  there  could  be  no  doubt. 
To  break  with  the  friends  who  had  shared  them  was 

440 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         441 

a  different  matter.  That  brought  a  pang.  Nor  need 
he  indeed  break  with  them  all.  With  some  he  had 
shared  his  better  self,  his  deeper  thoughts  and  feel 
ings.  These  he  longed  to  see  now,  even  before  he  was 
on  his  feet  again.  The  others  he  would  meet  later; 
he  could  hardly  bring  them  into  the  house  of  the  au 
stere  and  reverent-minded  Hebrew.  So  Bibulus  and 
Caius  and  Curio  and  Bibrax  had  to  wait  for  a  greet 
ing  from  their  old  boon  companion.  Lentulus  and 
Milo  were  sent  for  and  appeared  one  day  together  not 
long  after  Merari  had  given  his  sanction  to  the  union 
of  Marcus  with  his  grandchild. 

"  Ah,  friend  philosopher,"  cried  Marcus  heartily 
to  Lentulus,  "  I  can  imagine  how  puffed  up  you  are 
with  virtuous  pride  as  you  see  me  lying  here.  I  read 
your  mind.  You  are  thinking:  ( I  don't  go  to  wine 
rooms  and  make  enemies  of  surly  door-keepers.  7 
don't  go  to  vicious  haunts  like  Euthro's.  And  so  7 
don't  get  stabbed  in  the  back  for  my  follies.'  Well, 
wisdom  is  on  your  side.  Exult  as  much  as  you 
please!" 

"  Nonsense,  Marcus!  "  answered  Lentulus,  coloring 
slightly.  "  I  did  not  come  here  with  any  such 
thoughts  in  my  mind.  Milo  and  I  came  simply  to  tell 
you  how  thankful  we  were  that  you  are  alive  and  get 
ting  well.  Your  friends  have  had  some  very  unhappy 
hours.  There  were  days  when  we  were  told  there 
was  no  hope  for  you." 

'  Yes,"  added  Milo,  "  we  who  have  so  often  shared 
the  triclinium  with  you  had  a  heavy  heart  when  the 
news  of  you  was  so  discouraging.  That  banquet  I 


442          THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

gave  you  has  often  come  to  my  mind.  You  came  to 
it  quite  down-hearted,  and  the  mood  that  was  on  you 
seemed  like  a  forecast  of  the  troubles  that  followed. 
Soon  after  it  occurred  the  encounter  with  Styrax  at 
Pluto's  Cave  and  the  falling  out  with  Delphium's  door 
keeper;  then  followed  the  duel  with  Styrax;  then  the 
break  with  Delphium ;  and  then,  worst  of  all,  the  ter 
rible  evening  at  Euthro's  and  the  assault  that  nearly 
cost  you  your  life.  What  does  it  all  mean,  Marcus? 
Has  an  evil  fate  been  pursuing  you?  " 

"  Ask  Lentulus!"  said  Marcus,  as  he  cast  a  mis 
chievous  glance  at  the  Stoic.  "  He  is  an  authority  on 
such  questions." 

"  No,  Marcus !  "  quickly  rejoined  Lentulus,  whose 
face  again  showed  a  slight  tinge  of  red.  "  I  am  not 
authority.  I  only  use  my  judgment  about  such  mat 
ters;  and  all  can  do  the  same." 

"  Yes,  but  what  does  your  judgment  tell  us?  " 

'  Why,  if  you  really  want  to  know,  it  says  that  you 
have  been  paying  the  penalty  for  —  well,  as  you  are 
still  prostrate  from  your  wound  we  will  say,  for  being 
a  man  of  action." 

"  Just  what  I  said  when  you  came  in,  Lentulus," 
cried  Marcus  exultingly.  "  You  are  fairly  trapped. 
You  cannot  help  being  the  philosopher  and  the  moral 
ist  however  hard  you  try.  You  still  believe  that  we 
have  nothing  but  reason  to  guide  us?  That  there  is 
no  such  thing  as  fate  or  destiny?  That  the  future  is 
never  revealed  to  us?  That  we  have  no  proof  that  we 
live  on  after  death?  " 

"  Surely.     That  is  what  we  have  to  think  if  we 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         443 

listen  to  reason." 

"  Reason  is  our  only  guide?  There  is  nothing  else, 
nothing  better?  " 

"  No,  there  could  not  be.  Many  think  there  is,  but 
they  are  weak-minded.  They  let  their  reason  be 
swayed  by  superstition  or  sentiment." 

u  Put  me  down  among  the  weak-minded,  LentulusI 
I  told  you  I  did  not  think  it  was  mere  chance  that 
brought  me  face  to  face  with  the  Hebrew  maid,  the 
granddaughter  of  Eliud  Merari,  in  whose  house  we 
are,  not  once  but  three  several  times.  I  told  you  I 
felt  that  I  was  going  to  meet  her  again.  And  meet 
her  you  know  I  did.  I  found  her  at  that  dreadful 
haunt  of  Euthro's.  I  carried  her  home.  I  was 
wounded  nearly  to  death  very  close  to  her  door.  She 
nursed  me  to  life  and  I  am  going  to  marry  her  when  I 
am  well." 

'You  are  going  to  marry  her!  "  exclaimed  Lentu- 
lus  and  Milo  together  in  surprise. 

'  Yes,  I  am  going  to  marry  her.  You  are  both,  I 
can  see,  thinking  something  that  you  would  not  say. 
You  are  thinking  it  strange  that  I  am  to  marry  an  alien 
woman.  That  reason  of  yours,  Lentulus,  would  no 
doubt  say  it  was  unwise.  But  my  heart  says  something 
different,  and  hearts  have  always  had  a  way  of  dic 
tating  to  the  reason  in  matters  of  love.  Of  course  this 
is  very  shocking  to  philosophy;  but  still,  they  will  do 
it.  Perhaps  you  will  sometime  find  it  out  for  your 
self,  Lentulus." 

;<  I  think  not,"  replied  Lentulus  with  steady  grav 
ity.  "  Reason  and  I  are  such  close  allies  that  I  do  not 


444         THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

believe  our  relationship  will  ever  be  ruptured  or  even 
strained.  But  reason  and  philosophy  do  not  frown  on 
friendship  and  good  feeling.  I  am  a  man  before  I  am 
a  Stoic,  Marcus,  and  I  congratulate  you  with  all  my 
heart.  I  am  sure  your  feeling  is  deep  enough  to  make 
your  choice  a  wise  one.  May  it  bring  you  life-long 
happiness!  " 

"  And  the  richest,  fullest  happiness  a  man  can  get," 
added  Milo  heartily;  "  for  you  deserve  it,  Marcus. 
But  the  news  gives  me  pain  as  well  as  joy.  I  fear  that 
marriage  with  this  beautiful  foreign  girl  may  mean 
that  you  will  go  and  live  in  her  country  and  among  her 
people." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  will  have  to  be  so  for  a  time." 

"  And  we  shall  miss  you  sorely,  Marcus,"  continued 
Milo  with  a  grieved  and  saddened  look,  "  even  as  we 
missed  you  after  you  took  service  under  your  father. 
There  is  no  one  like  you,  no  one  to  take  your  place." 

"  We  have  been  good  friends,  Milo.  I  shall  not 
forget  you.  You  have  been  generous  and  true." 

"  And  I  thought  we  were  sometime  going  to  be 
closer  friends  than  ever.  I  had  hoped  you  would 
marry  so  as  to  make  us  brothers.  Nothing  could  have 
gratified  me  more  than  that.  You  are  the  one  man  in 
the  world  whom  I  would  have  been  glad  to  take  to  my 
heart  in  that  way.  But  it  was  not  to  be." 

:<  It  was  good  of  you  to  think  of  me  in  that  way, 
Milo.  But  Cethegus  is  an  honorable  man  and  a  very 
shrewd  and  clever  one.  He  is  ambitious,  too.  I  am 
sure  he  will  help  your  sister  to  win  the  place  she  wants 
and  ought  to  have  in  this  great  capital  of  ours." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         445 

*  Yes,  Cethegus  is  clever  and  he  is  ambitious.  I 
think  he  will  give  Julia  the  life  she  craves.  But 
Cethegus  isn't  you,  Marcus.  I  can't  say  more." 

'  You  have  said  all  there  is  to  say,  Milo,"  said 
Lentulus  heartily.  "  Cethegus  isn't  Marcus.  No 
man  is.  You  will  leave  a  great  gap  here  when  you 
go  and  live  in  Judaea,  Marcus.  We  shall  never  cease 
to  miss  you.  Philosophy  is  a  good  guide;  as  an  inti 
mate  bosom  friend  to  share  feelings  and  opinions  with, 
she  is  not  all  that  can  be  desired.  She  does  not  even 
talk  back  to  you.  Why,  I  enjoy  arguing  with  you, 
Marcus,  just  because  you  do  have  a  liking  for  fate  and 
daemons  and  superstition  and  all  manner  of  imagined 
things  the  philosopher  cannot  believe  in.  Yes,  I  shall 
miss  you  greatly." 

Milo  and  Lentulus  took  their  leave  and  Marcus 
found  a  sober  feeling  taking  possession  of  him  as  they 
departed.  Would  he  find  such  genial  intimates  in 
Naarah's  country? 


XLII 

FOR  to  Naarah's  country  it  was  fully  decided  that 
they  were  to  go.  This  Merari  demanded  and 
Marcus  could  but  acquiesce. 

'  You  are  taking  all  I  have,"  the  old  man  said  to 
him  on  the  day  when  he  first  found  himself  able  to 
rise  from  the  bed  he  had  kept  so  long.  "  You  are  tak 
ing  as  fair  and  pure  a  maid  as  ever  comforted  the  de 
clining  years  of  a  lonely  man.  Do  not  rob  me  of  her 
altogether.  I  wish  to  spend  my  last  days  in  the  land 
of  my  own  people.  Go  with  me  there,  I  pray,  that  my 
old  eyes  may  be  gladdened  by  the  sight  of  you  both 
as  they  grow  dim  to  the  things  of  the  world.  Go  to 
my  own  land  and  live  with  me  there  through  the  few 
brief  years  that  are  before  me!  After  that  all  the 
world  is  yours." 

*  Willingly  will  I  do  so.  It  would  be  wrong  to  do 
anything  else.  My  debt  to  you  is  greater  than  can 
ever  be  paid;  all  I  can  do  to  pay  it,  I  will  do  most 
gladly.  And  I  can  still  serve  Rome  while  living  in 
your  far  away  land.  My  father  will  find  some  post 
of  duty  for  me  there.  We  will  all  dwell  there  to 
gether  and  you  shall  share  our  joy." 

Such  a  post  Agrippa  easily  secured.  Marcus  was 
made  a  centurion,  with  the  special  task  of  watching 
and  reporting  on  the  course  of  events  in  Judaea  where 
there  had  already  been  an  outbreak  under  Pontius 

446 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         447 

Pilate  and  the  air  seemed  rife  with  discontent  and  se 
dition.  Nor  was  it  as  a  man  without  substance  that 
Marcus  was  to  go  into  this  far  away  country  and  live 
among  an  alien  people.  On  the  day  that  Agrippa 
told  his  son  of  his  appointment  to  the  centurionship  he 
said  to  him, 

"  I  am  sorry  you  have  to  go  to  a  land  so  distant 
from  Rome,  but  it  is  right  that  you  should  and  you  will 
not  go  empty-handed.  I  have  been  waiting  for  your 
marriage  to  tell  you  that  your  uncle,  Pherecles  Sila- 
nion,  your  mother's  brother,  bequeathed  to  you  a  con 
siderable  property  when  he  died  a  number  of  years 
ago.  While  he  was  serving  in  Spain  he  became  pos 
sessor  of  a  silver  mine  which  made  him  rich;  and  as 
he  never  married  he  made  you  his  heir.  That  prop 
erty  I  shall  now  make  over  to  you,  and  you  need  not 
therefore  feel  any  scruples  about  marrying  the  grand 
daughter  of  a  very  wealthy  man  who  will  in  time  in 
herit  all  he  possesses. 

{  The  rank  I  have  obtained  for  you,  that  of  cen 
turion,  is  not  high;  but  it  is  as  high  as  you  could  fairly 
expect  considering  your  years  and  your  lack  of  expe 
rience.  You  must  rise  from  it  through  your  own 
proved  capacity,  not  through  any  influence  of  mine. 
That  your  marriage  will  make  it  difficult  for  you  to 
rise  high,  I  have  told  you  plainly.  But  you  must  do 
your  best  and  you  have  no  mean  opportunity  before 
you.  You  are  going  into  a  country  which  Rome  is 
watching  with  interest  and  solicitude.  Merari's  peo 
ple  are  as  proud  as  the  Romans  themselves,  as  exult 
ant  over  their  past  history,  as  headstrong  and  arro- 


448          THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT 

gant,  and  possibly  when  roused  as  warlike.  Watch 
them  and  study  them  closely,  and  from  time  to  time 
write  me  the  results  of  your  observations.  Naturally 
you  will  have  a  peculiarly  kindly  feeling  toward  them 
now  that  you  have  chosen  to  marry  one  of  their  own 
nation;  but  that  you  will  be  unswervingly  loyal  to 
Rome  I  shall  never  for  a  moment  doubt." 

As  Merari  succeeded  in  settling  his  affairs  at  Rome 
much  earlier  than  he  had  thought  possible  and  as  he 
was  impatient  to  return  to  his  own  country,  Marcus 
and  Naarah  were  married  only  five  months  from  the 
day  when  they  were  for  the  first  time  so  strangely 
brought  together.  A  few  days  previous  Cethegus  was 
wedded  to  Julia.  When  Naarah  was  informed  of  it 
she  looked  grave  and  serious,  even  as  she  did  when 
Marcus  had  told  her  that  the  two  were  betrothed. 
Her  mind  went  back  to  the  moment  when  she  had  seen 
Julia  borne  in  Marcus'  arms  at  the  Theater  of  Mar- 
cellus,  and  she  reproached  herself  for  the  hasty  and 
unfavorable  judgment  she  had  then  formed  of  her. 
The  trying  interview  she  had  had  with  her  had  re 
vealed  a  nature  which,  though  arrogant  and  scornful, 
could  yet  feel  and  suffer;  and  Naarah  was  pained  that 
it  should  have  missed  the  one  supreme  joy  it  had 
craved.  To  the  end  of  her  life  she  thought  of  the 
beautiful  daughter  of  Veltrius  with  tenderness  and 
sympathy.  But  Marcus  augured  happiness  and  in 
creasing  satisfactions  from  this  union  that  had  made 
his  own  marriage  possible.  It  was  well  that  he  should 
think  so  and  his  feeling  was  not  without  justification. 
Julia  longed  for  just  that  splendid  and  exalted  life 


THE  SON  OF  THE  PREFECT         449 

which,  with  Cethegus  to  aid  her  and  to  be  inspired  by 
her  own  ambition,  she  seemed  likely  to  attain.  That 
her  disappointment  would  outlive  the  blandishments  of 
worldly  station,  Marcus  was  not  vain  enough  to  be 
lieve.  Does  a  man  ever  understand  perfectly  that 
only  love  can  satisfy  the  hunger  in  a  woman's  heart? 
It  was  arranged  that  the  voyage  to  Palestine  should 
be  from  Ostia.  To  this  port  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Tiber  a  small  boat  carried  Merari  and  his  two  chil 
dren,  as  he  called  them,  on  a  mild  and  beautiful  morn 
ing  in  early  December.  The  old  man  was  full  of 
eagerness  to  reach  the  home  of  his  fathers  and  tread 
once  more  the  soil  made  sacred  by  the  holy  men  who 
had  lived  and  died  there  and  interpreted  the  will  of 
Jehovah  to  the  erring  and  sinful  generations.  That 
he  himself  was  to  witness  mightier  happenings  than  the 
ancient  prophets  had  beheld,  he  did  not  dream.  Nor 
did  Marcus  foresee  that  the  land  to  which  he  was  trav 
eling  with  youth's  fond  anticipations  would  bring  to 
him  a  profound  spiritual  awakening  and  change  utterly 
his  ambitions  and  the  currents  of  his  life. 


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